Meteorfall: Legacy
by masamune22
Summary: A dramatic re-telling of FFVII. Because underneath the terrible translation, obscure graphics, and characters doing things for absolutely no reason is a hell of a story.
1. Introduction

Final Fantasy VII is far from a perfect game, but it's my favorite, you guys. I played it for the first time when I was 13 years old, and it captivated me from the opening sequence. Over the next few years, I played the living shit out of that game. I bred a gold chocobo, got every Enemy Skill, held every item/materia in the game (at one point or another), beat the Weapons, read every line of dialogue, got every ultimate weapon and learned every Level 4 Limit Break (including Aeris'). I was so obsessed that I even did a playthrough recording every single word of the game script. That script was the progenitor of the document you are (hopefully) about to read.

When I was 15, I read through that script I had worked so hard to transcribe and came to a realization: the English translation of Final Fantasy VII is atrocious. Everyone's favorite example is the infamous "this guy are sick" line, but the whole game abounds with such errors. The number of mistakes and instances of bad writing is so severe that it really impacts the ability of the game to communicate its basic story. This poor communication led to misunderstandings that range from innocuous (wait, didn't Reno die in the Sector 7 plate crash?) to pivotal (is Sephiroth controlling Jenova, or is it the other way around?).

So I sat down with a pen and a web browser open to the Final Fantasy wiki and went to work. Finally, at about the point where the party invades the Shinra building to save Aeris, I gave up. If I was going to fix Final Fantasy VII (and I sure as shit was), I was going to need a different approach. At the time I was in a creative writing class at my high school, and I thought if I was going to practice writing something, it should be something I loved. So I sat at the family computer and wrote the worst Opening/Bombing Mission scene nobody will ever read (a lofty claim, I know). It wasn't until several years later, when I was in college, that I took another crack at the project I had lovingly dubbed Meteorfall.

The following is a dramatic re-telling of FFVII. While I have not yet completed the story, I fully intend to carry the reader all the way from a desperate terrorist attack all the way to the massive magical duel for the Planet. As much as I respect the source material, it is not a purist interpretation. The characters you love (or may not love in some cases) are all here. Everyone from Cloud, to Rufus, to Bugenhagen will be represented in some fashion. But as I was writing, I became aware of a particular weakness in the narrative: no current members of SOLDIER play even a small role in the story. To address this issue, I made the contentious decision to create (dun dun duuunnnn!) an original character, Fran Dysley of SOLDIER, to serve as a foil for Cloud throughout the story. This is the most significant change I made to the original narrative, but it is by no means the only one. Still, I tried (and still try) my hardest to stay as faithful to the source material as good story-telling would allow.

For those of you who are still reading this, thank you for sticking with me through this self-indulgent, over-explanatory introduction. I don't own the world, the story, or any of the licensed characters created by Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and the team at Square Enix, and this work is strictly for stroking my own ego (as is my right under the fair use clause of Title 17 of the US Code). While I own neither the characters, nor the story, the way I'm telling the story is totally my own, and I retain all the rights to Meteorfall itself. Comments and criticism are very welcome! So, without further ado, I give you Meteorfall.


	2. Prologue

It was said in town that the night winds on the mountain were so sharp and cold they could steal a man's breath from his still living lungs and leave him frozen mid-step. Old Zangan claimed to have led an expedition to the peaks, and every night in the tavern he would tell anyone unfortunate enough to be drinking nearby about the gruesome fate of his travelling companions.

"Twenty of us, there were, all healthy 'n able-bodied to boot! But it don't matter how strong you are once the sun goes down and the wind comes up," he would declare, staring at his audience with unfocused eyes. "If you stop movin', even for a second, the cold takes you and that's that. I saw men stop dead, still as statues, their eyes froze hard as marbles. I alone made it to the top, but that night a terrible storm hit and I took shelter in a cave. The next morning, snow covered the trail and one slope looked just the same as another…but for one thing." At this point in the story, Zangan would pause dramatically and look pointedly at his empty cup. Once someone took the hint and ordered another round of drinks, Zangan would down the strong liquor in one gulp, smack his lips and continue the story. "As I was sayin'…snow from the storm had covered up the trail and there was no way to tell one path from another, but for one thing: the men I left behind me still stood, frozen in place. I followed 'em like signposts straight down to the village."

The man standing on the ridge now was motionless enough to be mistaken for one of Zangan's lost fellows were it not for the mist which puffed out of his nostrils at every breath. SOLDIER 2nd Class Garry Henrik wore nothing to protect him from the biting cold but his standard-issue uniform: a sleeveless maroon shirt topped by heavy steel pauldrons and tucked neatly into a pair of matching slacks. Henrik's feet were insulated from the snow by a pair of thick black boots, but his hands were protected only by a pair of black leather gloves. Atop his head was a helm of dark steel that obscured most of his face, but the true symbol of his office was the large burnished broadsword strapped to his back. Enemies often laughed the first time they saw a SOLDIER agent approaching guns and missiles with nothing but a sword, but nobody laughed once the sword left its sheath.

As the sun began to rise above the peaks of the lower mountains, Henrik thought that the night winds were almost as bad as old Zangan had said. If he had been anyone other than a conditioned SOLDIER agent, the cold might have claimed him. But even spending the night out in the cold was preferable to seeking refuge in the caves nowadays. Maybe back in Zangan's day the caves were safe, but that was before Shinra came. Now the interweaving network of caves and tunnels was infested with mako-born monsters; byproducts of the waste from the reactor. Henrik almost wondered if he should say as much to Zangan the next time he saw him, then the wind shifted and carried the stench of burnt blood and flesh from the ruin of the town below and he remembered that he would never get the chance.

Henrik had grown up in Nibelheim, but to join SOLDIER, a man had to subject himself to rigorous training, mental as well as physical, and completely forsake his old life. Midgar was his home now, and SOLDIER was his family…but as the growing morning light illuminated the smoldering ruin in the valley that had once been his home, he felt a distant twinge of sadness. The reports couldn't be true. No SOLDIER agent could have done something like this, least of all the heroes he'd fought alongside in Wutai.

The sun had crept nearly to its zenith before Henrik heard a high thin voice pierce the low roar of the wind.

"…a helicopter, then, if the car couldn't reach…outrageous…don't lecture me about the winds…been coming here since before you were conceived in a gutter…" Henrik stood immobile for nearly an hour listening to the voice rant and berate, but never once hearing an answer. The corner of Henrik's mouth twitched in what was almost a smile. His men were bearing their burden well, with all the honor befitting an agent of SOLDIER. When the three figures rounded the corner and approached him, he was pleased to see that the two men wearing the blue uniform of a SOLDIER 3rd Class walked with straight backs and heads held high despite the half-day hike and unpleasant company. The owner of the sharp voice walked with a shuffling gait and was bent under the weight of his thick coat. His thick glasses magnified a pair of sickly green eyes and the gusts had pulled strands of long, greasy black hair out from under his heavy hood.

Henrik swallowed his pride and strode forward. "Professor Hojo, sir," he said, as he rose his hand to his brow in salute. "I am SOLDIER 2nd Class—"

"I could care less what your name is, cur," spat Hojo, "just take me to it."

"Yes, sir." Henrik bristled inwardly at the scientist's rudeness, but his face showed none of his disdain. The officer saluted and dismissed his two men before walking with Hojo into a nearby cave. As the two men walked deeper into the cave, the natural sunlight faded and was replaced with an eerie green glow given off by the rock walls around them. The cave narrowed and twisted into a dimly lit tunnel. As the howling of the wind was left behind them, Henrik became aware that Hojo was mumbling to himself.

"…always showed a remarkable intellect…suppose it was only a matter of time…he'll know some, of course, but he can't possibly have guessed it all…" The tunnel twisted again and again, growing more cramped the whole time until Henrik was forced to bend his back to progress. After what seemed like an eternity creeping through the belly of the mountain, the way lit only by the faint glow of the mountain's natural mako deposits, the mouth of the tunnel opened abruptly into a massive open-ceilinged cavern nearly a mile in diameter. The walls around the edge of the cavern pulsed with the green light of the rich mako veins. In the center of the cavern's stone floor stood a hulking monstrosity of metal. The reactor was connected to the ceilings and walls of the cave by dozens of rusting pipelines which drained the mountain of its abundant supply of mako. As the two men walked towards the center of the cavern, Henrik had the sudden impression that he was walking through the belly of some gigantic sleeping beast. The mako's glow seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, and the wind swirling down through the cavern's open ceiling sounded like air being pushed through an enormous set of lungs. Henrik allowed himself a moment to savor the natural wonder before turning his eyes to the reactor, a steel tumor sitting in the heart of this massive ancient creature, sucking away its life. The stone walls around the pipelines had lost much of their light.

Henrik pulled himself back to reality as they approached the guards he had stationed outside the reactor entrance. The two guards were not SOLDIER, but rather a pair of Shinra foot-soldiers dressed in crisp blue uniforms with masked helms designed to intimidate foes and eliminate any sense of identity. The masks and helmets were as deep blue as their uniforms, and earned them the nickname "blueskulls" among the common people. Shinra troops were the most disciplined in the world, but the two grunts shifted nervously from one foot to the other and clutched at their assault rifles with the kind of grip that comes only from fear. Regardless, the men both saluted as Henrik and Hojo approached and stood aside to grant them access.

Inside the reactor, the sterile metal halls were lit by dim fluorescent light. Hojo unzipped his several coats and shrugged them unceremoniously to the floor. Underneath, the winter clothing, Hojo wore a stained off-white lab coat and his greasy black hair fell in a messy tangle halfway down his back. When he moved, he gave off a stale, sour aroma that made Henrik curl his lip. Though he was free of the weight of his clothing, Hojo's back remained bent. Henrik guessed this was from a lifetime of hunching over figures and test tubes and for a moment he felt a stab of pity for this little figure who was not quite a man. Then the professor opened his mouth and the pity evaporated.

"How many dead?" asked Hojo curtly as he began to shuffle down the hall.

"The whole village, as far as we can tell," responded Henrik shortly as he marched alongside the scientist. The lights flickered in the hall and in the shadows he could make out gashes in the steel walls, some as much as five feet in length, and none less than a full inch deep. A dark smear on the floor led to a dead man slumped over against the wall. He clutched a hunting rifle in two pieces in his lifeless hands. "It seems that the survivors of the initial attack guessed where they were headed, grabbed weapons and took a shortcut through the tunnels to head them off. They probably planned to lay an ambush in the reactor; maybe get some kind of payback." Henrik looked sadly at a pair of dismembered legs left lying in a nearby doorway. Their owner was nowhere in sight.

"Imbeciles," Hojo snorted, "how could they have thought they would stand a chance? My creations cannot be defeated in battle, no matter how strong the enemy. These fools would have fared better against a raging behemoth! Still, their corpses may yet yield some interesting data…" Hojo gave a nasty cackle and Henrik's insides twisted with rage.

"These were good men protecting their home," he snarled, "they deserved more than this, and they damn sure deserve more than you poking and prodding—"

"Yes, yes," snapped Hojo, "you can be sure they'll be given every respect. Now, where is he?" Hojo's watery eyes fixed on Henrik with sudden, unexpected intensity. Henrik stopped in his tracks and returned the glare with a kind of grim satisfaction.

"Well, sir, we don't know for sure," Henrik smiled inwardly at the stupid look of fear that crossed the scientist's weaselly face, "we've searched every inch of this place but one. It seems there was a chamber behind the power control center that wasn't indicated on the blueprints, and that chamber caved in. I've got my men working to dig out an entrance, but your, eh…creation was most likely crushed inside." Henrik watched with savage pleasure as the hateful man's expression turned from fear to panicked disbelief. Without another word, Hojo turned and raced down the hall towards the heart of the reactor.

Henrik strolled after the professor at his leisure, stopping briefly to remove the dog tags from a dead SOLDIER 3rd Class lying nearby. Some of his own men had been on the mission when it went wrong, and they had paid the price for their loyalty. Henrik pocketed the dog tags with a weary sigh and continued down the hall until he reached a door to the right. He passed through and found himself standing at the edge of a massive pit crossed by a straight but narrow catwalk. At least two hundred feet below a sea of raw mako churned and frothed as it was processed by the machines under the surface. Mako in its purest form was not just green; it gave off a glow that was every color of the rainbow.

As Henrik paused to watch the swirling patterns of red, blue, green and orange he wondered, not for the first time, if something so beautiful should be torn from its natural state and used up at man's convenience. But Shinra had saved him from life as the poor son of a poorer farmer and given him everything he had today. He owed the company his life, and he supposed the President knew best. After taking a moment to compose himself, Henrik crossed the catwalk and slipped through the small hidden door behind the reactor's main power hub.

The air in the secret room's antechamber was choked with dust and lit only by a few strategically placed work lamps. The chamber extended back twenty feet before being cut short by a solid wall of collapsed concrete and twisted metal. Its ceiling sloped upwards and a set of steps had been built to allow access to the upper levels which had since been blocked by the cave-in. Henrik marveled again at the force it must have taken to bring down several tons of reinforced steel and concrete. Eight Shinra grunts were hard at work sifting through the rubble by hand, but they weren't the only ones. Much to Henrik's amusement, Hojo was on his hands and knees in the soot and dirt whimpering pitifully and wrenching aside rocks and parts of girders with surprising strength.

Overseeing the project were three more SOLDIER 3rd Class agents he had hand-picked for the recovery mission. Roger Holdfast was just a kid from Kalm with dreams of someday earning glory and making 1st. He'd removed his helmet to see better in the dark, but as a consequence his straw-blond hair was caked with dust. Korin Willems was from the slums of Midgar and seemed small and scrawny next to his companions. He had joined SOLDIER to support his wife and son, but Shinra was his family now and he hardly ever talked about them anymore. Fran Dysley was a rarity: a female SOLDIER operative. Tall and proud with short-cropped brown hair and noble features, Dysley sometimes reminded Henrik of himself. But Dysley was twice as good with a sword as Henrik had been when he was a 3rd and about a hundred times smarter than he would ever be. Henrik had taken charge of her training personally and only hoped that when she was promoted to 1st Class she would remember who showed her the ropes.

Dysley was the first to notice her commander and saluted smartly. Willems and Holdfast jumped and hastily followed suit. "Anything to report?" he asked, "How's digging going?"

"Sir, we're making great progress, sir!" Holdfast shouted enthusiastically. Henrik looked at the small pile of cleared debris, then at the massive wall still in their path. He turned back to Holdfast and fixed him with a piercing stare. Holdfast seemed to shrivel under his superior's glare. "Er, that is to say, we're farther than we were when you left. We would have gone faster, but Dysley made us dig less efficiently and so—"

"I stopped SOLDIER Holdfast from telling the men to remove that beam," Dysley said slowly through gritted teeth, indicating a long curved I-beam that snaked its way through the rubble. "It's load-bearing; take it out and half the pile comes down on top of the diggers. Then we have to postpone the operation until replacement diggers arrive, which could be days. So tell me, how is that 'less efficient?'"

Henrik looked and saw that she was right. The beam's uprooted base was sticking part-way out of the heap and offered a tempting place to grab hold and pull, but the upper part was still holding in place several large chunks of concrete that would certainly fall on the heads of the unsuspecting grunts. He was secretly glad he had not been here, or he might have given the order himself, and there had already been enough death today. Once more he was impressed by Dysley's ability to analyze a situation quickly and accurately in the field.

"We've had them clearing the corner by the left wall," said Willems in his flat dead voice. Before his conditioning, Willems had joked and laughed with the other recruits, always full of stories about his family. But the surgeries, mako baths and harsh training had a way of hardening a man. Many a recruit washed out in training not because of the physical strain, but because their minds broke. Willems had cleared his psych evaluation, but only barely. His commitment to SOLDIER was absolute, but he no longer laughed. "It's farther from the center stair than I'd like, but SOLDIER Dysley's right; it's safest for the blueskulls and we'll get a better idea of how to proceed once they're done."

Henrik nodded and turned back to survey the work. Suddenly, a cry went up from one of the grunts. Henrik started forward but Hojo beat him there.

"What!?" he screeched, "Out of my way, idiots! What is it!? Is it—" Hojo stopped abruptly and turned on his heel. "Useless fools! What do I care for another jack-booted cretin!? Call me when you've found something useful!" As Hojo returned to his solitary labor, Henrik saw the grunts carefully lift the broken, but still breathing body of another Shinra grunt out of the rubble. As they lay the man gently down on the floor Henrik approached and waved them away, sliding a glowing green orb out of its pouch on his belt. The familiar voices sang in his head as he knelt and passed the orb over the man's body, and he watched as it glowed and the man's bones re-knit themselves under the skin. Bruises faded and split skin healed as Henrik passed the orb back and forth over the man's wounds until he appeared to be in good condition.

"Will he live, sir?" Henrik's eyes betrayed none of the surprise he felt at her voice. He always forgot how silently Dysley could move when she wanted to. Even his enhanced hearing had missed her footsteps.

"He will now," Henrik dragged himself to his feet and replaced the orb on his belt. "He's damn lucky he was caught in a pocket. The weight of all this debris would have crushed him. Maybe when he wakes he'll be able to tell us more of what happened here. Mother knows I have enough unanswered questions about this place. And I'm pretty sure most of the answers have to do with him."

Henrik gestured towards Hojo, then froze. The scientist was standing in one spot holding a rock in his hand. He was shaking from head to toe as if he was having a seizure, but as Henrik moved towards him, he saw that Hojo was shaking with quiet laughter. His mad laugh grew louder and stronger until everyone in the chamber had turned towards him. Henrik had time to notice that the rock in Hojo's hand was covered in some slimy green substance before he saw what Hojo had unearthed. Under the rock, and coated with the same green slime was a single black-gloved hand. With the strength of a SOLDIER agent, Henrik and Dysley tossed aside more debris until they came to a large boulder resting where the buried man's head should be. Exchanging grim glances, the two agents lifted the heavy boulder with a great strain, steeling themselves for the mess underneath. Instead they found a handsome face beneath tufts of spiky hair. As they watched, the man groaned.

"He's alive," whispered Dysley, awe creeping into her voice, "but how?" The man moaned again and his eyes fluttered open, just for an instant. But it was enough. As Hojo's wild laughter echoed off the walls of the chamber, Henrik's training failed him and his face for once registered his shock. The man's eyes glowed with the ghostly light of a SOLDIER 1st Class.


	3. Cloud I

Author's Note: I think I'm going to try to post a chapter each week, since that's the rate at which I've been writing them recently. I have a backlog of a few chapters for a rainy day (or month), but between work and writing my own original story I'm a pretty busy guy. If I go a while between updates, it doesn't mean I've abandoned the project; I will come back to it eventually.****

Chapter 1

Cloud Strife crouched on top of the train as it hurtled down the tracks at breakneck speed. The elevated city of Midgar stretched out around him, full of bright offices and high-end apartments. The clean, well-lit streets bustled with activity despite the late hour. The air was alive with the scents of restaurants and open-air kitchens catering to their rich patrons. The stars winked cheerfully at the brightly colored cars and well-dressed people crossing the metropolis beneath the clear night sky. Then the train plunged into a dark tunnel and emerged on the underside of the plate. Even hundreds of feet above the squalid camps on the ground, Cloud could still smell their rank odor.

The Shinra Company's official history stated that the first President Shinra had found this land covered with squabbling, uncivilized tribes constantly at war with one another. The President, in his infinite wisdom and generosity, had united the tribes and elevated the best of them to a life of wealth and prosperity in Midgar. The native people were welcome to live in luxury, but those who chose to stay on the ground were offered food and shelter. These ungrateful people were even protected by the Company's private military and by the high walls the President had built around the base of the structure.

The people of the slums told a different story. Some claimed to be descended from the first president's partners. Their story began when the President seized total control of Shinra, forcing his peers into exile. Others claimed to have had grandfathers who labored in constructing Midgar, only to be driven out by Shinra after it was complete. Some even claimed to be the last remnants of the Ancients, the people from the North who knew all the secrets of the Great Mother and the Planet itself. But all agreed on one thing: they were hungry, they were miserable, and Shinra was no friend to the poor.

The track rose again and the train followed it back up to the top side of the plate. Cloud's earpiece beeped loudly over the roar of the wind that ripped through his spiky blond hair. He reached up and touched the receiver with a black-gloved hand.

"Yo, Braver, you still up there!?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you 'sir' me! You ain't SOLDIER no more. This is Avalanche, bitch! We don't got names and we don't got ranks."

Cloud frowned. It had been nearly a month since he had walked into 7th Heaven to meet with Midgar's most wanted man: the leader of the terrorist group Avalanche. Inside the dingy bar a few forlorn-looking slum-dwellers sat trying to drown their sorrows, waited on by a girl of 8 or 9 years. Cloud had wondered if there could be any job less suited for such a young girl, but these were the slums; even kids had to pull their weight. In any case, the ragged patrons seemed fond of the girl, and offered her an extra penny with each drink. At the door to the backroom stood a tall broad man wearing ratty clothing and a large pistol on his hip. The man was heavily muscled and maybe a head taller than Cloud, but his eyes still widened as he noticed the SOLDIER insignia on the left breast of Cloud's black uniform. Cloud had taken to wearing the ragged clothing of a slum-dweller to avoid attention, but his SOLDIER training went deep. He didn't know how the day would end, and he always fought better in uniform. He'd covered the black vest of a SOLDIER 1st Class agent with an overcoat during his transit, but he had let the coat fall open as he entered the bar. The guard put one hand on his gun and extended the other.

"Your sword." Cloud stood still and glared at the man, light shining softly in his mako-infused eyes. The massive sword strapped to his back had attracted some strange looks in the alleys, but it also meant he was less likely to be attacked by thieves. Cloud did not fear the robbers that infested the Midgar slums, but a fight would certainly attract unwanted attention.

"The sword goes where I go," Cloud said coolly. He watched as the man examined him, and he could tell he was being sized up. Cloud might not have been as big as the man in front of him, but he knew beyond a doubt that he could drop the terrorist without breaking a sweat. He wasn't SOLDIER 1st Class for nothing. The guard seemed to reach the same conclusion and grudgingly stepped aside.

"If you try anything, the boss'll fill you with holes and dump you out back for the rats," he challenged, salvaging the remainder of his dignity.

Cloud smirked. "I'll keep that in mind." As he stepped through the door, doubt swarmed through his head. Shinra grunts were the objects of derision down here in the slums, but every blueskull Cloud had known would die before allowing a known enemy access to his commander without first relieving the foe of his weapon. In a firefight, discipline beat skill every time. If Avalanche was made up of men like this, was he wrong to count them as allies?

The air inside the room was thick with smoke and the only light came from a small, ineffective desk lamp. There were two people in the room, both their faces shrouded by smoke and darkness. Cloud's heart rate increased at the sight of the woman leaning against the wall, but he focused his attention on the other figure. Behind the cluttered desk sat a mountain of a man. The leader of Avalanche was a huge dark-skinned man who dwarfed even his guard at the door. He was leaning back in a chair and had two massive booted feet resting on a pile of papers on the desk. The sole of each boot was wider and longer than Cloud's head. The thick cigar the man held in his left hand looked no larger than a stubby pencil between his enormous fingers. Cloud saw with surprise that the rumors he'd heard on the streets were true: in place of his left hand the man had grafted a minigun onto his massive forearm. The gun was rested casually on the man's armrest, but Cloud noted that it happened to be pointed directly between his eyes.

"So," growled the giant in a low, gravelly voice, "you're the SOLDIER agent I've heard so much about."

"Ex-SOLDIER agent," replied Cloud, "I'm retired."

The man chuckled. "'Zat so? I thought you people only retired one way." The man drew one sausage-sized finger across his thick neck and let out another rumbling laugh. "Might be I retired a few of your brothers myself. How you feel about that? Pisses you off, don't it?"

"No, sir."

The leader of Avalanche turned his head and spat. "Fuck your 'sirs'!" he barked, "Let's get one thing straight between us." The man removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward into the light. His face was covered in a grizzly black beard that didn't quite hide the crisscrossing scars of battles won and lost. "I don't like you. You walk in here with that big-ass sword on your back tryin' to intimidate me. You worked for Shinra, which makes you fuckin' scum in my book. If it weren't for Angel, here, I would've blasted your ass to hell the second you walked through my door."

Cloud turned his eyes on the woman in the corner. He hadn't seen her in five years, and the woman shrouded in swirling shadow beside him was no longer the gangly girl he'd known. Even through the grime that clung to everyone in the slums, Tifa Lockhart was clearly a stunning beauty. Her body's curves were perfect, with accented hips and shapely breasts, but Cloud was struck most of all by her face. Framed by long black hair, her heart-shaped face featured thin lips curved into a half-smile. Her eyes were golden amber, large enough to lose yourself in. She wore a miniskirt and tank-top that suited her lovely body, but Cloud suspected that the outfit was chosen for function rather than form. Tifa had insisted on becoming a great martial artist as a child, and Cloud guessed by the padded fingerless gloves on her hands that she still held to that dream. Revealing as it might be, her outfit did offer the benefit of maximum mobility.

"Now, I ain't in the habit of takin' in SOLDIER members," the man was saying, "and you got a shifty look about you. You mighta been hot shit with Shinra, but you're just another dipshit grunt to me. And if you still got any loyalty to SOLDIER, you an' me are gonna have problems."

"You have my word," replied Cloud. He had heard anger described by others as an inner heat, but Cloud's anger had always felt like freezing, a cold fury that seemed to slow the world down. As he sat in the dark smoky room, Cloud felt the first hints of ice in his veins, but he could also feel Tifa's eyes on him. He set his jaw against the spreading cold. "I feel nothing for Shinra, or SOLDIER. I'm just a mercenary now." The giant leaned forward again and examined Cloud with sharp black eyes.

"Your word," he snarled, spitting between his feet, "ain't worth shit. Ain't no SOLDIER man ever had honor. You're a bunch of spineless fucks, usin' your strength to stomp on people who can't defend themselves."

Cloud felt his heart freeze as he drew his sword and split the desk in half with a crack like breaking ice. The big man was still reeling backward as Cloud strode from the room. The guard had drawn his gun but Cloud knocked it out of his hand with a lazy flick of his sword and continued out into the street. His ears were ringing and he didn't register Tifa calling his name until she grabbed his arm.

"Cloud, please! Wait! Please!" Cloud shook off her hand, but he stopped.

"What do you want, Tifa?"

"I vouched for you, Cloud," said Tifa, her hands on her hips. "I stuck my neck out. The least you can do is hear us out." Cloud felt heat seeping back into his limbs. He slid his sword into the sheath on his back.

"Not interested."

"The Planet is dying, Cloud. You've seen it," pleaded Tifa. "Shinra's not going to stop until there's no mako left anywhere. Their greed and corruption—"

"Spare me your sermon," said Cloud. "I've heard it all before."

Tifa let out an exasperated sigh, but a small smile crept onto her face. "I forgot who I was dealing with. OK, then. The truth is that we need you. We've only been able to mount a few small operations so far. Somebody with insider knowledge of Shinra's workings could bring us to the next level. Catastrophe's too proud to admit it, but there's only so much we can do as we are now." Tifa paused, but Cloud just stared off into the distance, the unearthly glow in his eyes giving his face a haunted expression. "Cloud?"

"Catastrophe?" replied Cloud with a hard edge to his voice. "Angel? The next level? This isn't a game, Tifa! If Shinra catches you, they'll parade you into a public square and shoot you in the head. And you know what? The people will cheer. You've killed innocent people to send your 'message.' When I heard you were part of Avalanche, I couldn't believe it. I was convinced it was a lie. The girl I knew would never hurt innocent people. What the hell are you thinking? What happened to you!?" Cloud felt a hard slap across his face and staggered backward. She was stronger than she looked. When he looked up Tifa's eyes were brimming with tears, but her fists were shaking with rage.

"How dare you!?" she hissed in a deadly whisper. "How _dare_ you judge me!? You! You want to know what happened to me!? My home…_our_ home…was destroyed!" The bottom dropped out of Cloud's stomach. "Yeah, your friends in SOLDIER burned Nibelheim to the ground! They killed everyone I ever knew or loved!" Tifa was crying in earnest now. "I was there! And you weren't! You _promised_! You swore that if I ever needed help you would be there, but when it came down to it and I needed you more than anything…when your 'brothers' were razing the village to the ground, you weren't there! So don't you _dare_ judge me!"

Cloud felt as though he might be sick. "Tifa, I—"

"Don't!" For a second, Cloud thought that Tifa might hit him again. He might even have welcomed it. But after a moment she turned away and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Just go. You disappeared once, just do it again. But this time, do everyone a favor and don't come back."

Cloud stood silently as the seconds stretched into minutes looking for something to say. Finally he settled on the only two words he could think of.

"I'm sorry."

The following two weeks had been a test of Cloud's patience as he suffered constant insults and threats from Catastrophe. According to Tifa, "Catastrophe" was actually Barret Wallace, a former coal miner from Corel. Cloud was also formally acquainted with Barret's bodyguard, Biggs, who, despite Cloud's initial impression, was actually a deserter from the blueskulls. Cloud also met a pudgy young orphan who went only by Wedge and Biggs' girlfriend, a pretty but tough brunette who insisted on being called Jessie. Barret had bestowed Cloud with the mocking code-name "Braver" since Cloud was the only team member to have fought in a full-scale battle. Tifa somehow managed to convince Barret to let Cloud put the team through combat drills when they weren't planning their next attack. Biggs and Jessie performed decently, but Wedge had trouble keeping up. Cloud said little, but secretly he feared they weren't ready for the upcoming mission.

Cloud was startled out of his reflection by Barret shouting in his ear.

"Yo, asshole, the fuck is going on!? You still up there? Don't tell me a famous SOLDIER 1st Class got knocked off by a little bump!"

"No, I'm here," replied Cloud.

"Well then gimme a damn status report!" Cloud focused all his senses on the rapidly approaching station.

"The station's just ahead, ETA six minutes. Four men on the platform, probably two attendants and two blueskulls. The attendants won't put up much of a fight, but standard equipment for train-duty blueskulls is an assault rifle, a blackjack, and three grenades each. We won't know for sure until we get there, but I seriously doubt they put their A-list men on train watch. If we come out shooting it's likely they'll have time to take cover in the guardhouse, so instead—"

"Shit, man, we get it. No need for their life's story. Fuckin' SOLDIER…" Cloud heard a click as Barret shut off his headset. Cloud's nerves began to rise and he reached instinctively for the worn leather hilt of his sword. He pulled it from the straps on his back and examined the massive weapon. The grip was simple steel wrapped in strips of old leather, and it had no guard. The blade itself was five feet long and eighteen inches wide, with one edge flat and dull and the other razor-sharp. The sword was solid steel and so heavy it took two ordinary men to lift it. As was customary for SOLDIER swords the weapon had no pommel, restricting its use to those with unnatural strength and coordination. After endless use, Cloud thought of the massive sword as an extension of his arm. He called it the Buster Sword, a name that sounded familiar despite the fact that he'd never heard it before. Two circular indents surrounded by runes were situated on the blade near the base and each held a faintly glowing green orb. Cloud lifted the Buster Sword and pressed the cold steel to his forehead. Calm washed over him and everything around him jumped into sharp focus. By the time the train pulled into the station, he was ready.

As the train came to a stop, Cloud laid flat atop the first passenger car, clutching his sword close to his body on the left side. He listened for any sign of the guards and heard the approaching footsteps of one of the attendants.

"Third late arrival this week," the man was saying as he slid open the engineer's compartment, "I told you Benson, one more slip-up and I was going to contact headquarters. Well, I'm a man of my—" The attendant's rant was cut short by the deafening boom of a shotgun blast and Cloud heard the heavy thud of a body dropping. The next sounds were the shout of the other attendant and a loud scraping as a table in the guardhouse was tipped over for cover. Cloud cursed inwardly. He'd tried to tell Barret that going in guns blazing would cause the blueskulls to hole up. They should have hidden inside the train and drawn the grunts into the open.

In the next instant, the air was full of gunfire as Avalanche and the guards blindly fired their weapons in each other's general direction. Cloud drew himself into a crouching position and hopped from the train's roof to that of the guardhouse. His footfalls went unheard in the deafening cacophony of battle and it was all too easy to drop down behind the guards and slip through a window unnoticed. With a single stroke Cloud beheaded the two men, but Avalanche continued firing wildly from inside the car, unaware that their foes had already been dealt with. Cloud hunched down behind the flat of his blade for additional cover. With gritted teeth, he put a hand to his earpiece.

"It's over, dammit! Cease fire!"

The silence that followed rang more loudly than the brief battle. Jessie and Biggs hopped down onto the platform with guns in hand. Biggs was carrying a massive but antiquated double-barreled shotgun while Jessie was holding a .50-caliber pistol. Jessie's weapon was hanging loosely by her side, but Biggs kept his twin barrels pointed into the ruined guardhouse.

"Who goes there!?" he challenged boldly. Cloud rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword. Five minutes into the mission and they'd already been caught in a firefight. Worse, they'd been caught in a firefight that wouldn't have been resolved without his direct intervention. Cloud wondered how these morons had ever managed to get anything done without him. As he stepped out onto the platform, Barret emerged from the first car with a satchel slung over one shoulder and studied the scene before him. After a brief moment he spat on the corpse of the attendant and cast a shrewd eye on his team.

"A'ight, bitches, our target's the Number 1 Reactor so listen up! Jessie, you're with me. We're goin' through the main gate. Biggs, you an' Braver get around to the other side of the complex and get in the rear door. We'll meet at the bridge and head inside together. Until then I want radio silence, got that? An' no screw-ups," said Barret, glaring pointedly at Cloud, "or you answer to me. Move out!"

Biggs shot off like a rocket towards the street and Cloud set off after him at a steady jog. He went right on the main street and then crossed and ducked left into a narrow alley. Ahead of him at the corner, Biggs stood with his back pressed to the wall, clutching his shotgun with white-knuckled hands. Cloud discovered the problem as he approached. Around the corner two men were conversing in loud, rude voices muffled by their skeletal blue masks. Biggs' eyes darted back and forth and his breath came shallow and ragged. Just as the tall man spun around the corner and leveled his shotgun, Cloud grabbed the barrel and yanked the weapon out of his ally's hands. Biggs' mouth opened but Cloud stifled his cry with his spare hand and marched the young man forcefully across the street into the next alley. Once safe in the darkness, Cloud withdrew his hand and wordlessly handed Biggs his gun. Biggs snatched it and pointed the twin-barrels at Cloud's chest.

"What the hell, man?" he hissed. "I had those assholes!"

"Look," replied Cloud. Biggs stuck his head out into the street and then snapped it back.

"Just like I thought: two blueskulls!" A bout of raucous laughter echoed off the walls around them.

"Two _drunk_ blueskulls," said Cloud, his cold anger shining through his eyes, "with their backs turned. An honorable man kills when he has no other choice. Only a coward shoots an incapacitated enemy in the back."

Biggs looked away sullenly. "Look, man, you don't know—"

"What exactly don't I know?" said Cloud quietly. "Did you forget who you're talking to?" The cold was back again, but he kept his head. Biggs seemed like a good kid, but good kids didn't stay good for long in the Shinra military. All SOLDIER operatives started out as grunts, and Cloud had completed nearly every assignment in basic training with ease. Only one task had given him pause. Recruits graduated only when they could demonstrate to their commander that they had no qualms about shedding blood, usually by executing an enemy of the state. If a recruit refused or questioned his orders, he was likely to find himself bound on his knees waiting for the next trainee. Cloud had hesitated, but only for a moment. He sighed. "Whatever. Let's just keep going."

The pair hurried off down the alley and took another turn towards the reactor. The rest of their journey through Sector 1 was uneventful, and neither spoke until they reached the back gate of the compound surrounding the Number 1 Reactor.

"What now?" whispered Biggs.

"Now we wait for Jessie to get the door open from the inside," replied Cloud. Biggs quietly contemplated this stage of the plan. When he'd puzzled it out, he broke the silence.

"Were you really in SOLDIER?" he asked with an eager note in his voice.

"Yes," responded Cloud curtly.

"What class?"

"First."

"Is it true they expose you to mako radiation?"

"Yes."

"Were you in Wutai?"

"No."

"But you did see combat?"

"Yes."

"Did you…did you ever meet Sephiroth?" Cloud suddenly felt his insides twist. He could almost hear that harsh cold voice again. _The blood of the Ancients courses through my veins. I alone am the rightful heir to the Planet._

"Yes."

"Wow…what was he like?"

"He was…" Cloud paused, remembering the man his mentor had been…and the monster he'd become. "He was complicated."

Cloud was spared further questions by an abrupt pneumatic hiss. The gigantic metal deadbolts on the gate pulled back and it sank into the ground. Cloud unsheathed his sword and strode through the opening into the reactor complex with Biggs trailing nervously behind. To the left and right, patrolling guards led large, jet-black mastiffs in wide circles, but Cloud ignored them and made straight for the reactor ahead. A confident stride and a uniform were often the best shields against suspicion. The reactor itself protruded from the center of a large hole in the plate, and the only way to cross the divide was one narrow bridge that led directly to the main entrance. As the two men approached, they saw Barret and Jessie waiting by the bridge and doing their best to look inconspicuous.

"Anything to report?" grunted Barret.

"Nothing," said Biggs as all four hurried into the safety of the reactor. The door slid shut behind them and the four infiltrators were faced with a long metal corridor lit at intervals by white fluorescent lights. Cloud's breath caught in his chest for an instant and he felt a sense of dread that froze him in his tracks. The cold steel walls suddenly pressed in on him, and the light from the fluorescent strips seemed to shrink back from his eyes until he was standing in another corridor, one where the dim lights flickered and gashes and blood marred the once pristine walls…

"Yo! Whatchu doin'!?" yelled Barret, "get your spiky-haired ass in gear!" Cloud cleared his head and followed his new compatriots down the hall. At the first door, Barret stopped. "Biggs, you stay here and watch our backs. Anyone comes down, terminate the motherfucker. If things get too hot, radio us and fall back."

"Got it, Catastrophe," answered Biggs.

"Good. Let's get goin'." Jessie, Barret and Cloud stole quietly down the hall until they reached the control room. The door was open and Barret pressed his hulking form against the wall beside it. A low murmur of voices drifted out into the hall. Cloud thought he could make out three distinct voices, and his guess was confirmed when Barret briefly peeked around the corner and held up three fingers. Barret slowly set his satchel down by his feet and motioned for Cloud to cross to the other side of the doorway. Cloud nodded and slipped silently across the open space, catching a glimpse into the room as he did so. Inside, three men in white coats were sitting on swiveling stools observing banks of dials, switches, and flashing lights while conversing idly. Cloud's heart sank as he realized they were civilians. Their goal was the elevator in the back of the room that would take them deep into the reactor's core. But to get to it, they'd have to deal with the men in that room. They had no methods of restraining them, and even leaving a guard wouldn't guarantee safety; all it would take would be a second's lapse in concentration for one of the men to hit the silent alarm. No, the men had to die. It was the only way. Cloud let out an inaudible sigh as he reached for the hilt of the Buster Sword, but Barret caught his eye and stopped him with a small shake of his head. Cloud watched Barret turn to Jessie and confer with her in hushed tones. Cloud didn't need his razor-sharp hearing to know what they were talking about; Jessie's horrified expression told him everything. After a quiet but intense debate, Barret switched places with Jessie so that the young woman was closer to the door. Her hands gripped her pistol tightly and her jaw clenched in steely resolve. But as Jessie pivoted around the corner, Cloud saw it in her eyes: that instantaneous flash of hesitation that heralded the death of so many warriors.

"Freeze!" she screamed. "Put your hands where I can—" Jessie's warning was interrupted as Barret shoved her unceremoniously out of the way and raked the control center with fire from his arm-mounted minigun.

"Dammit, Jessie," he thundered as she surveyed the carnage in the room with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, "I told you no bullshit! Shoot to kill! You think any one o' these bastards would give you the chance to surrender!? They're Shinra, Jessie! They're fuckin' _evil_!" Cloud walked into the room and quickly crossed to the elevator, stepping over a body as he went. Barret snatched up his satchel from outside the door and continued to rant as Cloud pressed the call button, now sticky with fresh blood. "Next time I give you an order, follow it! It's for your own damn good!"

Cloud heard it before he saw it: a dull scraping sound followed by a quiet click. He spun and lunged towards the wounded man on the ground. The man was propped up on one elbow and holding a small handgun he seemed to have acquired from a hidden compartment under the nearest computer bank. Cloud drew his sword and buried it in the man's chest, but not before he managed to get off one wild shot. Cloud's eyes followed the bullet's trajectory and he saw Jessie swaying on the spot, blood flowing from a new wound on her upper right arm. Barret's eyes widened as he took in what had happened, and he barely reached Jessie to catch her as her legs gave out.

"I fuckin' told ya," he growled, tearing a piece of cloth from his shirt with his teeth and hastily binding the wound, "given half a chance any Shinra asshole'll put you in the ground. Come on, now…over here…" Barret lifted Jessie easily and brought her over to lean against the wall facing the door. Jessie whimpered as Barret took her arm in his hand and carefully examined it. "Bullet went straight through an' missed your bone. You're bleedin', but not like he hit an artery. Damn lucky. Can you shoot?" Jessie lifted her trembling arm then let out a soft cry and dropped her gun to the floor. Tears flowed from her eyes and down her pale cheeks. "That's OK," muttered Barret, "you're gonna be OK…"

Barret straightened up, carefully adjusted the satchel, and walked outside the room as the elevator dinged behind them and the doors slid open. Cloud followed silently. When they were both in the hall, Barret cursed under his breath and punched the wall hard enough to leave a large dent. "You gotta stay with her," he said after a few seconds. "I'll go down alone and set the charges myself."

"You know it's a two-man job," said Cloud. "One of us sets the charges, the other holds off the guards. Shinra's been upgrading their security, too. Who knows what's waiting for us down there."

"Fuck you," growled Barret, "I'm not leavin' Jessie here alone. You saw her, she can't lift a weapon. How's she supposed to defend herself if the blueskulls come?"

"Then I'll go down. I was SOLDIER, I can take care of myself."

"No way," said Barret, "No way in hell I'm lettin' a fuckin' Shinra man go wanderin' around on his own." Cloud felt the cold creeping up, but he held his tongue. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back into the room, raising his sword. "The fuck you think you're doin'!?" shouted Barret. "Keep away from her!" Cloud ignored him and knelt beside Jessie, plucking one of the orbs from its slot in the Buster Sword.

"This is materia," said Cloud as he pressed the orb into Jessie's left hand. "It lets you do magic. This one lets you set things on fire." Jessie's eyes widened as the orb glowed in her hand and she let out a strange cooing sound.

"What is it!?" demanded Barret, "What's going on!?"

"I hear voices," murmured Jessie vaguely. "They're so pretty…but sad…" Barret shot an alarmed look at Cloud, but again the SOLDIER agent ignored him.

"That's good, Jessie," Cloud said soothingly, "just concentrate on your target and listen to the voices; they know what to do." The haze of pain in Jessie's eyes faded as they focused sharply on the body of the man who had shot her. Suddenly, his blood-stained coat erupted into flame. Jessie sighed and leaned back as the flames consumed his clothing and the room began to fill with the smell of roasting meat. Barret's mouth had dropped open in outright shock when the flames appeared, but his face filled with concern as Jessie groaned and her head slumped to her chest. "Careful now," said Cloud gently, "materia use really takes it out of you. Try for small flames in critical areas and you should be fine." Cloud stood, sheathed his sword, and walked into the elevator. After a moment, Barret followed. Once the doors slid shut, Barret rounded on Cloud.

"The fuck was that all about!?" he yelled, eyes bulging with anger. "Jessie's hurt and you wanna give her something that makes her weaker!? That makes her hear voices!?"

"Like I said," stated Cloud coldly, "if she uses it efficiently, she'll be all right." But despite the confidence of his words, Cloud wondered. Materia use was restricted to 1st and 2nd class agents of SOLDIER , and for good reason. Materia was essentially just crystallized mako, and it gave off the same dangerous radiation, although at much lower levels. Prolonged exposure to materia could induce mako sickness, and actually using the materia greatly accelerated the process. Having been surgically and genetically modified, SOLDIER agents of 1st and 2nd Class were understood to be more resistant to the effects of materia exposure, but Cloud had learned from experience that being resistant was a far cry from being immune.

"What was all that shit about hearing voices?" demanded Barret. "Last I checked, hearing voices ain't a good thing."

"There are many theories about the nature of materia," said Cloud, "but the voices you hear when you use it have led most scientists to believe that they're a kind of storage device developed by the Ancients thousands of years ago to preserve their knowledge."

"The Ancients…" grumbled Barret with a thoughtful expression. "They the ones people say talked to the Planet?"

"Right," Cloud agreed. "Legend has it the Ancients could communicate with the Planet, and used that ability to manipulate the forces of nature. Experts think they somehow stored instructions on how to do this in crystallized mako, what we call materia today. When you touch a piece of materia, it interfaces directly with your mind and grants you the power of the Ancients. At least that's what Shinra believes. Their scientists have been trying to reverse-engineer materia and synthesize their own for decades, but they've had little success."

"So, it's a rock that lets you do magic?" Barret said impatiently.

"Basically," sighed Cloud. It was a little more complicated than that, but Cloud knew the terrorist leader wouldn't understand if he tried to explain further. Instead, the two men waited as the elevator sank deeper into the reactor core. Finally the doors opened and they stepped out onto a platform. No more than a hundred feet below, pure mako flowed beneath them. A single narrow catwalk crossed the expanse to the power control center on the opposite wall. The only light came from the shifting multi-colored glow of the mako below. In the shadows cast by the fluctuating light, Cloud thought he saw a dark opening behind the power conduit, like a jagged, gaping wound. But in the next second the light changed again and the hidden door was gone.

"Well?" growled Barret, "You gonna set the damn bomb or not?" Cloud turned around with surprise as Barret removed a small packet of plastic explosive from his satchel. The bomb was covered with a tangle of wires and a timer placed in the center was set to ten minutes. Barret held the bomb out to Cloud, but the ex-SOLDIER merely crossed his arms.

"You hired me as protection," Cloud protested. "I'm not going to be the one to kill hundreds of innocent people. Your plan, your team, your guilt. You paid me to get you into Shinra's reactor and that's where our deal ended."

"You're a pussy!" snarled Barret.

"I'm a professional," Cloud fired back scornfully. "And I'm sure as hell not a mass murderer. That's your area of expertise." Barret's face contorted with rage, and his one hand went instinctively to his gun, but the big man managed to hold his temper.

"When Shinra runs their story on this," said Barret through clenched teeth, "they're gonna say we all murderers. You, me, Jessie, all of us. 'Cause that's what Shinra do: they lie. An' no one's gonna care who set the bomb. No one's gonna know."

"I'll know," responded Cloud. For a second, Barret looked as though he was going to explode with fury. Then suddenly he threw his head back and laughed loudly into the low hum of the reactor's machines. When he finished, Barret looked shrewdly at Cloud with a mocking smile on his face.

"Looks like the SOLDIER man ain't as cold as he'd like us all to think," he chuckled. "Well, shit. A'ight, then. Keep your damn honor. I'll set the fuckin' bomb myself." Barret continued to chuckle as he stomped off down the catwalk. Suddenly, an alarm started to blare. Cloud cursed quietly and drew the Buster Sword.

"Catastrophe!" he called over his shoulder, "we're gonna have company in about one minute!" Cloud heard a yell of confirmation and a rattling crash as a nearby freight elevator was called and shuddered into motion. Cloud looked around and assessed the situation. His appraisal was less than comforting. He was cornered, soon to be outnumbered and definitely outgunned. The freight elevator suggested they were bringing down heavy weaponry, and even if he and Barret somehow fought past it, the alarm was sure to bring every gun in the plant down on them. A distant screech indicated that the lift had apparently reached its destination in the levels high above the reactor core. He could hear something massive and metallic stepping into the lift on several sets of legs. Shinra protocol in the event of an in-progress terrorist strike dictated that robo-guards only be deployed after conventional infantry operations had failed. Cloud's heart sank further. He could think of only one reason protocol was being ignored: Shinra had learned his identity.

Fear traced its way up and down his spine, building until his hands began to tremble. The lift descended slowly from the black hole in the high ceiling. A long, thick metallic appendage snaked out of the lift's open roof. It was seven feet long and as thick as Cloud's torso. The tip of the steel limb tapered off into a vicious looking spike. A hidden spotlight on its side switched on, dazzling Cloud's eyes. Blinded, Cloud closed his eyes and focused his other senses while colorful shapes danced under his eyelids. He could smell the stench of oil and hot metal. He could feel vibrations in the air as the robot's tail swung menacingly back and forth. He could hear the rattle of the lift getting closer and closer. The Buster Sword danced in the air as Cloud's shaking hands gripped tighter and tighter. As the lift crashed to a halt, Barret let out a triumphant cry, then a shout of shock. The lift doors screamed as they opened. Cloud opened his eyes and beheld his foe: a massive, glittering black steel scorpion. The robot's front two arms carried huge serrated pincers made even more deadly by the machine guns mounted on their undersides. Each powerful leg ended in a blade, and the monster's steps had scratched and scored the iron floor of the lift. Six shining red lights stared from the machine's horrible head. Cloud watched the scorpion's tail curl back to strike, and in that moment he realized that his hands were steady. As the deadly spike snapped forward Cloud swung his sword and the fear was lost in the rush of battle.


	4. Aeris I

**Chapter 2**

On clear summer nights, a breeze sometimes crossed the plate from east to west, carrying with it the clean earthy smell of the grasslands and gently lifting away the man-made stench of hot metal and fuming machines. Aeris didn't usually stay above the plate past dark, but on warm nights when the air smelled like the countryside she couldn't bring herself to leave her flower stand in Sector 1 until the early hours of the morning. Her garments were plain: a simple pink dress covered by a worn maroon vest, both marked by the filth of the slums. Tarnished bracelets adorned her wrists and a beaten-up metal pendant featuring a shining white marble hung around her neck on a thin steel chain. Hiking boots protected her feet, but she wore them only at her mother's insistence. Aeris preferred to walk barefoot; few pleasures compared to feeling the thrum of life in the earth beneath her toes. But her mother said it was too dangerous to go around without shoes, so Aeris wore them for no other reason than to ease her mother's fears; the poor woman worried about enough already.

Since Aeris could remember, her mother had been protective of her. Everything was too dangerous and Aeris' childhood had been a fearful one. But her curiosity about the outside world had grown until she turned thirteen and her sense of adventure finally overcame her fear. Even then, Aeris had limited her expeditions only to the nearby church, but her world had still expanded from the small house and garden in a corner of the Sector 5 slums. Two years later she met Zack, and he brought her up to the plate for the first time. Aeris touched the ribbon in her braided auburn hair and remembered how terrified she had been when he first suggested the trip. Everything her mother had warned her about came flooding to the front of her mind: bandits and robbers, murderers and rapists, and Shinra worst of all. But Zack simply laughed at that. It wasn't until she saw his name in the news that Aeris realized that the handsome young man who laughed easily and often was SOLDIER 2nd Class Zack Fair, a hero of the Wutai War. The two years she spent dating a SOLDIER member opened her eyes to a fresh perspective. Her mother was pleased at Aeris' change from a quiet and timid teenager into a strong and confident young woman, but she wouldn't have been so pleased had she known the cause. Zack made all her fears seem small and silly. When he was promoted to 1st Class she wanted to celebrate, but his promotion had come with a top secret mission. He promised he'd be back in a month and she believed him. Zack was tall and strong, the youngest SOLDIER 1st Class since Sephiroth, and he never lied to her. He never came home.

It was getting late, and Aeris decided that she should be getting back home. Her mother might be nervous, but no more than usual and it had been years since she had enforced a curfew. No, Aeris was worried less about her mother and more about the slum streets late at night. It was a rough world beneath the plate, and even though Aeris kept a telescopic nightstick on her at all times she would also be carrying the days' proceeds. Even a good beating could not always deter the truly desperate slum-dwellers that wandered the streets at night. Aeris looked up into the sky for one last glimpse of the stars, then gathered up her flowers from the stand and stowed them carefully in her cart. She turned the cart towards the road and gave a small gasp. A woman was standing in front of her with a sad smile on her face. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was quite beautiful, with wide blue eyes and shining brown hair that cascaded freely down her back. She was dressed in a robe of some strange material that shimmered and changed color as it caught the light.

"I'm sorry," said Aeris, "I didn't see you there." The woman made no response, but a tear slid from one eye to run slowly down her cheek. In the yellow light of the streetlamps it looked like a drop of molten gold. Aeris was taken aback. "Are you all right, ma'am?" she asked, soft concern filling her voice. "Do you need help?" The woman remained silent. Aeris looked closer and saw that the woman wore no shoes. That explained how she had managed to approach without Aeris hearing her, but where had she come from? Five minutes ago the street had been deserted. Aeris frowned. There was something strangely familiar about this woman. Then the woman started to speak and Aeris lost her train of thought.

Although Aeris had never been outside the walls of Midgar, she recognized all the music of the natural world in the woman's voice. Behind each syllable was the roar of the ocean and the rolling boom of thunder. Every breath held the hiss of falling rain and the whisper of the wind in the leaves.

"Mother," the woman sang in that half-remembered song, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" said Aeris in hushed tones. The woman's smile broadened, but the sadness in her eyes deepened. Her face reminded Aeris of the pale light of the sun streaming through a cloudy sky.

"The world is changing, Mother," sighed the woman. "The chosen one has risen to lead us all to the promised land, but you have never been in greater danger. The world's enemy has returned, and in him lies the strength and will of the shadow that fell from the skies."

A chill ran down Aeris' spine but she ignored it; she'd left behind the chains of fear long ago. Aeris' hand went to the pendant around her neck and the white marble that had been her good luck charm for her whole life. She longed to turn and run, but instead she gathered her courage and stepped forward boldly.

"I don't understand. I'm not in any danger, and I'm not anybody's mother. I don't even have a boyfriend. I'm just a flower girl. Please, if you just tell me who you are, maybe I can help you."

"I am not the one who needs help," the woman said, her voice heavy with sorrow…and something else Aeris couldn't pin down. "The time is here, Mother. Listen to your heart and the stream of life that flows through it and you will never lose your way. And when you meet him, bring him home. Do you understand? _Bring him home._"

"Who?" asked Aeris, her eyes wide, "Bring who home?"

"The one who will save you."

Aeris opened her mouth to voice her confusion, but before she could utter a single word, the streetlights went out and the world brightened as though the sun had risen four hours early. Aeris had just enough time to turn and see a colossal ball of fire rising over the outskirts of the city before a loud low thud pressed on her eardrums and shattered all the windows around her. Aeris barely noticed the sudden wind that lifted and spun her hair as she stood transfixed by the sight of multi-colored flames clawing desperately at the sky. Suddenly the street around her was packed with people. A few just stood in shocked silence, but most were screaming. Aeris knew the explosion couldn't have been a result of a mechanical failure, not one that severe and not without any warning. It must have been a terrorist attack. Lately the terrorist group Avalanche had been stepping up their attacks, but Aeris had never imagined that they could do anything on this scale.

Aeris realized with a start that an explosion that large must have woken her mother. She couldn't see the fires from below the plate, but all she had to do was find a television and she would know that the Sector 1 reactor had suffered a catastrophic meltdown. Aeris needed to find her before she panicked. She grabbed the handles of her flower cart, but quickly realized that she couldn't possibly drive it through the throng of people milling about in the street. Aeris seized her money pouch and a selection of her most valuable specimens and pushed her way through the crowd to the back alleys.

The streets might have been packed, but the alleys were relatively clear, and Aeris was able to move quickly towards the train station. She hoped the rails came equipped with a backup power system, otherwise she would be stuck on the plate until power was re-routed from one of the other reactors, and that could take days.

She was maybe a half-mile from the station when she heard raised voices coming from nearby. She rounded a corner and froze. Zack was standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by six Shinra troops. But, no, it wasn't Zack. Some things were the same: his build, his clothes, his sword. Most of all, Aeris recognized the way he stood: like nothing in the world could hurt him, even when he was confronted with a team of well-armed, well-trained men with guns raised. But Zack was dead. This man had blond hair, not black, and when she heard him speak his voice held none of the bubbling laughter that had characterized her boyfriend. This man's voice was cold, flat and lifeless.

"I'll give you one chance," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "Drop your weapons and let me pass. If you do not step aside, you will die facedown in this street and no one will remember your names." The troops glanced nervously at one another, but none of them gave an inch. A tense silence hung heavy in the air as each man waited for another to make the first move. After what seemed like an eternity, one of the men barked an order to engage. No sooner had the words left his lips then a deafening crack split the air, accompanied by a blinding flash. By the time the blueskull's convulsing body hit the ground, his fellows had indiscriminately opened fire, but Aeris paid no mind. Her eyes remained glued to the dying man, even as a stray bullet pulled at her hair like a playful summer breeze. Aeris took a step forward, then another step, then another until she was close enough to smell burning hair and crackling ozone. The grunt's mask had been knocked askew, and Aeris saw a shockingly young face contorted in agony. His hands clenched and unclenched on the pavement, and his boot gave the occasional kick, but the man was already dead; Aeris could see it in his eyes.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the noise stopped, leaving only a faint ringing in Aeris' ears. She looked up to see the strange man standing over the last blueskull. He was kneeling in front of the warrior in abject surrender, his gun cast aside and his hands clasped together. The stranger raised his sword as the soldier pleaded desperately for mercy. As the blond man lifted his sword above his head for the killing blow, Aeris' numbness was washed away in a tide of fury.

"Stop!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her nightstick was in her hand, though she couldn't remember reaching for it. The man hesitated for a second and looked at Aeris with an inscrutable expression before bringing his weapon down with a sickening squelch. Aeris crossed the distance between them with a few strides and swung her weapon at the man's head. As she did, the warrior pivoted and the stick swished harmlessly through the air. As it passed by, the man's arm shot out quick as a viper and grabbed her wrist. Aeris tried to twist out of his grip, but he was strong. Too strong. SOLDIER.

The thought frightened her, but she stood her ground. "Let go of me!" shouted Aeris defiantly.

"Drop the weapon," replied the man. His hand seemed small, barely larger than Aeris' own, but his fingers were iron digging into her arm. She realized with a start that his eyes were locked onto hers. _He's watching what I'm watching,_ she thought suddenly, and a chill slipped down her spine.

"I won't," she said stubbornly, tearing her eyes away from the man's insistent glare to stare at her feet. For a single absurd moment, she cursed her boots. If her feet had been bare she would have been quicker, and she could have bashed in his stupid smug face. She looked up again to see the man's head raised in the air and cocked slightly to one side, like a wolf listening to a distant howl.

"I don't have time for this," he said. "I don't want to hurt you—"

"Bullshit!" Aeris screamed in his face. "You're just another mindless Shinra thug! All you know how to do is hurt people! What kind of monster kills an unarmed man pleading for his life!?"

The man released her so suddenly she stumbled and almost fell. When she looked up, Aeris found the man staring at her as intently as before. Yet his gaze was different. Beneath his impassive mask of a face, Aeris saw pain, guilt, anger…and something else. The man turned to walk down a dimly lit alley, but stopped on the edge of the street.

"Every action we take has consequences," he said, and to Aeris his voice sounded like that of an old and weary man. "I told them what would happen if they chose to attack. I won't bear the responsibility for their mistakes."

"But he surrendered," said Aeris. She wasn't angry, not anymore. In its place was a deep sadness, so heavy she felt as though her soul was being crushed beneath its weight. She did not know why her anger had left her, any more than she could name the source of her sadness. All she knew was that it was crucial that he understand. "He surrendered," Aeris said again, struggling to find the right words. "He put his life in your hands, and you failed him."

For a second, Aeris dared to hope that she had made herself clear. But the man just shook his head.

"No," he said flatly, "I gave him a chance to surrender." The SOLDIER operative stepped quietly into the dark alley.

"One chance!" Aeris shouted into the gloom, "It's not enough! Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Not everyone," said the dead voice. Then the man was gone.

Aeris stood among the bodies for another second, then gathered up her belongings and continued her journey to the train station. The Mother was merciful that night and the train hadn't lost power. Aeris took the long, winding ride down to the Sector 5 slums and disembarked to find her mother waiting anxiously on the platform in a pair of mismatched slippers and a filthy nightgown. After assuring her mother of her own safety, Aeris escorted her back to their house, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the ghetto. At her mother's insistence, Aeris went straight to bed, but she remained awake long after her mother's snores echoed through the walls.

She remembered the look on the killer's face, and wondered what she had said to provoke such a reaction. Guilt and anger were understandable, and there had never been a SOLDIER member unfamiliar with pain. But what else had she seen? Whatever it was, it had seemed jarring and out of place in the mind of so deadly a warrior. Yet she had seen it before, and often. The realization came all at once without warning. She had seen the same emotion in her own reflection, time and time again. She had seen it in her mother, in her friends, in the faces of every slum dweller she passed after dark. What had she done to make a SOLDIER operative so afraid?


	5. Fran I

**Author's Note**:  
I meant to update last week, but the life of a soon-to-be-unemployed-college-graduate is sometimes hectic. Here's last week's chapter in addition to the one for this week.

**Chapter 3**

The skeleton of the reactor stood charred and twisted in the pale grey morning. The deadly rainbow of flame that had lit the previous night had receded and Fran Dysley's team picked through the rubble as close to the brilliant multi-colored fire as they dared. She had been in Shinra headquarters when she got the call. Fran, like the rest of Midgar, had been woken by the explosion of the Sector 1 reactor, but unlike the rest of Midgar she knew exactly what to do. Fran lived in the barracks in Sector 8 that housed the SOLDIER operatives. Within minutes of the explosion, she'd donned her deep purple uniform, taken her sword from the wall and walked the short distance from the barracks to the 100-story skyscraper at the heart of the city.

2nd Class SOLDIER agents had access to classified information, so she spent the time until she was called reading reports on her standard-issue tablet. Avalanche had released a statement to the press taking credit for the bombing, but the President was holding the story until he decided whether to blame the explosion on an accident. It was a tough call, Fran realized. On the one hand, alleging an accident would keep people from panicking…but it might make Shinra look incompetent. On the other hand, a terrorist attack would place the blame squarely on Avalanche's shoulders, but the invincibility of Shinra's world-famous military could be called into question. The more she thought about it, the more Fran believed that the latter option would be better. Shinra would be just as much a victim as the people of Midgar, and spun right it could be an opportunity for unification. Besides, there is little honor in lying to people who trust you. When the order came down to officially treat the explosion as an accident, Dysley put her own opinions right out of her head. There may be little honor in lies, but there was less in disobeying orders.

Dysley had come to Shinra headquarters on her own, but her team waited for official summons to rouse them. The four 3rd Class SOLDIER agents came in together. Reno and Rude could not have been more different: Kaz Reno was short and wiry with a mop of unkempt red hair tied back in a ponytail, while Robert Rude was tall, broad-shouldered, and bald as an egg. Reno's uniform was a wrinkled mess and his hands were bare, Fran saw with a frown. The undisciplined candidates were typically the first to wash out of the SOLDIER program, but Reno had made the cut thanks to outstanding combat scores and uncommonly stable psych evals. Reno's lax attitude contrasted perfectly with Rude's stoic, disciplined nature. Every piece of Rude's uniform was exactly in order. His only indulgence was a pair of shades that hid his eyes. To look at Rude sometimes you'd think he was carved from marble. Reno and Rude had met in basic training and despite their radical differences became inseparable.

Rene Elena was the only female 3rd Class in SOLDIER, but Dysley felt little connection with her. Elena was young. In fact, Dysley sometimes wondered if she was a bit too young. She had potential to be sure, but she was reckless, and enthusiasm often overwhelmed her better judgment. Still, she was no slouch with her sword, and she had a charismatic charm that proved impossible to resist. Beneath her shoulder-length blond hair, Elena's eyes were wide and alert, the hour failing to diminish her energy. Dysley's last team member was Tseng, a pale man with dark hair and darker eyes. Tseng was from one of the villages on the southern shore of the frozen wastes across the Sapphire Sea to the north. Only the slightest hint of an accent marked his soft speech. More telling was the small dot tattooed into the center of his forehead. The Third Eye it was called, and it represented the wisdom passed down by the Ancients. On the mainland, people spoke of the Ancients as they spoke of gremlins, elves and trolls, if they remembered them at all. But Tseng had told her that in the north the Ancients were worshipped as humanity's ancestors. Tseng had distinguished himself quickly as the most promising recruit in his training class, strong, fast, and surprisingly clever. When he'd earned his uniform, Dysley made sure he came to her.

"So," yawned Reno, throwing himself carelessly into a chair across from Dysley, "what are we doing here so damn early?"

Elena raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? You didn't feel the explosion?"

"Baby, I feel explosions in my room every night." Reno leered at Elena while Rude stood stone-still at his side, smiling subtly. "You should come by some time so I can show you."

"Oh," exclaimed Elena with a mocking grin, "so you finally convinced Rude to give it up? How was your first time, big guy? Was he real sweet, or hard and rough?"

"Bitch," said Rude softly as he removed his sunglasses. Underneath the dark shades his narrowed eyes glinted like chips of ice. Reno jumped to his feet, uttering a stream of curses, insults and imaginative threats. Tseng glanced pointedly towards Dysley, but she was already rising. She stepped between Elena and the two men and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Enough," she barked. "Plant your asses in your chairs. Now!"

Rude and Elena sat, but Reno remained standing. "Captain, you can't seriously expect—"

"One more word," Dysley snarled. "One more word from you and I will take your insubordinate ass outside and beat you so bad you will be eating through a tube. You do not decide what I expect. I decide what I expect. I can expect chocobos to fall from the sky if I so choose, and right now I expect that anyone who utters so much as one fucking word will find themselves in traction for the next six months." Reno sank into his seat, muttering indistinct apologies. "What about you, big boy?" she taunted, turning on Rude. "You want to start a fight in the middle of headquarters? Go right ahead. Take a swing." Rude sat silently, avoiding her gaze, and after a moment he replaced his sunglasses. Fran smirked. "That's what I thought. Listen up, shitheads. I did not pick you for this unit. You are here because you barely passed your qualification exams, but no unit captain would have you. It is only by the grace of the Mother that you are here with me instead of out on the streets with the rest of the blueskull washouts." This assertion was only half-true. While Reno and Rude had indeed been blacklisted among the ranking SOLDIER members, Dysley had been forced to call in a few favors to get Elena and Tseng. Still, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, and the whole team could use a bit more humility.

"So, uh…why are we here, Captain?" asked Reno.

"Because here is where we're supposed to be, SOLDIER."

And so there they were, sifting through wreckage for anything that could be salvaged. Fran picked up a scorched, twisted piece of metal and discarded it. She had no idea what they were supposed to be looking for, but orders were orders. Fran edged a little bit closer to the edge of the pit in which the mako fires burned. The flames flashed formless tongues of red and green and blue. For a moment, Fran allowed herself to be absorbed in the enormity of the situation. Midgar, her home, had suffered the worst terrorist attack in its history. Hundreds of innocent people were dead and twice that number injured, to say nothing of the millions of gil in damage. Avalanche's statement spoke of liberation, and justice, and a beautiful new day. But all Fran saw when she looked around was death. No beauty could ever come from such ugly hate. Dysley stirred herself from her bitter reflections in time to hear the soft crunch of boots on refuse approaching her from behind. The footsteps were quick and regular, but they alternated between light and heavy.

"Commander," she said, saluting as she turned.

A small smile crept onto Henrik's lined face. "It's been three years since you made 2nd, Dysley. When're you gonna learn to stop calling me that?"

"When you finally learn to retire, sir," she shot back. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff. Hurts like hell in the morning. But what doesn't these days?" Henrik sighed. "I'll tell you, Dysley, there is nothing sadder than a SOLDIER grown old."

"We should all be so lucky, sir," said Dysley solemnly. For a silent moment the two officers surveyed the carnage around them. Reno and Rude were at opposite ends of the debris field, each working his way in towards the center while Elena and Tseng were sweeping the area side-by-side. They were speaking quietly and their voices carried to Dysley and Henrik, though their words were lost.

"So, what brings you out here?" asked Dysley when the moment had passed.

"Intel," said Henrik, passing Fran a red folder. She took the folder and began sifting through the reports inside. "Had I known it was you that caught this I would've thrown together a second squad for you. It looks like you could use more bodies down here."

"We didn't catch it," said Fran slowly as she studied a communications log. "I volunteered. The 3rds need to learn that being in SOLDIER means more than just doing what you're told. It means doing your duty. It's an honor to be out here, not a chore."

Henrik chuckled. "You know, I could make a full-time job out of apologizing to people for teaching you about SOLDIER honor."

Fran barely heard him. Something was wrong with the communications log. After a second, she found the problem. "Look at this, sir," she said, handing Henrik a page. He frowned down at the numbers. "The night of the explosion," Fran continued. "Comm channels cut out at 2315 hours…"

"…but the explosion didn't occur until 2330," Henrik finished. "Someone cuts the line and fifteen minutes later the reactor goes up. That's a tight timetable. Nobody in our dossier on Avalanche could've pulled it off."

"They had outside help." Fran frowned. "What kind of mercenary is good enough to break into and sabotage a top-security Midgar reactor in fifteen minutes, but stupid enough to go on a suicide mission?"

"Maybe he had family he couldn't support," suggested Henrik. "Avalanche could've promised to look out for them when he was gone."

"No," said Dysley. "He has the skills and discipline to pull off the most effective terrorist attack of all time in Shinra's own back yard, but he can't find enough work to put food on the table? I don't think so, sir."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, but—"

"Commander!" Dysley and Henrik turned towards the shout. About seventy-five yards away, Tseng was holding something in his arms while Elena peered closely at it. The two officers walked over to examine the find. It had been scorched by the flames and its surface corroded by mako exposure, but the segmented metal joints had kept their distinctive shape. It had been severed at the base, but the end still tapered into a nasty spike.

"A guard scorpion tail?" asked Henrik as Dysley took the piece from Tseng and turned it over in her hands.

"The tip is fused," she noticed. "It must have fired its laser."

"So it was in a fight!" chirped Elena.

"Yes," Dysley muttered, the beginnings of an idea taking root in her mind. "But the tail was removed from the body with one, clean cut after the laser had already been fired."

"So it lost the fight," said Tseng.

"Whoever did this was dangerous enough that security deployed robo-guards," said Henrik grimly. "Not only that, but he was dangerous enough to survive the full assault of a state-of-the-art guard scorpion and then destroy it."

The idea grew in Fran's mind, and an icy chill filled her heart. "Sir," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "what if we're wrong? What if he got in _and out_ in fifteen minutes?"

"Impossible," said Henrik quietly. "Someone who could do that could…they could…" He stopped, and Fran watched the color drain from his stone-still face. "They could raze a village in minutes." Fran nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. For just a second Henrik's eyes gazed out at the horizon, and Fran watched his mind fall back to a past mission in a darker place. Then he returned, alert, animated, and (Fran thought) more than a little afraid. "Sector 5 uses the most power after Sector 1. Take your team to the reactor and lock it down. I'll go to headquarters and get SOLDIER stationed in the others."

"Will it be enough, sir?"

"I hope so, Dysley. Be careful out there."

"Yes, sir." Dysley, Tseng and Elena saluted as Henrik turned on his heel and marched swiftly towards the towering building in the center of Midgar. When he reached the edge of the field, Dysley turned to the others. "Tseng, get Reno and Rude and meet us at the Sector 5 reactor." Tseng bowed his head and jogged lightly out to Rude. Dysley took off in the other direction towards Sector 5 with Elena at her heels.

"Commander," Elena panted, "what does this mean?"

Dysley's eyes narrowed. "Nothing good."


	6. Cloud II

**Chapter 4**

A church bell rang once in the darkness. Cloud sat up in his bed. The house was quiet. "Mom?" he called softly. He waited for an answer, but none came. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. The floor was cold. A flicker of light caught the corner of his eye and he turned towards the hearth. He walked towards the fire, breath swirling before him, dark as smoke. The flames danced brightly in the fireplace, but they gave off no warmth. "Mom?" he called again, his voice small and weak in the deafening silence.

The mansion's gate stood before him like a headstone. Cloud reached out to push it open, but withdrew his hand with a hiss. The palm of his glove was singed. The mansion loomed behind him, breathing heavily.

"Where is he?" he shouted up at the cruel iron bars.

"Out of your reach," murmured unseen voices from outside.

"Why did he do this?" Cloud wailed.

"The blood is poison," the voices sighed.

"What do I do?" Cloud cried, a sob hitching in his throat. The voices gave no answer, but the gate swung open, its hinges screeching accusations. Cloud stepped out onto the road and let his feet carry him downhill.

The town was before him, every building draped in hungry flames. Tifa lay still at his feet, her blood staining the ground. Her eyes were wide and staring, fixed on her burning home. In the town center the well had been buried beneath a hideous mountain of mutilated remains. On a throne of bone atop the pile of bodies, a one-winged angel sat with head bowed. His long silver hair glistened in the firelight, but the feathers of his wing had been burned black as coal. He grasped a long thin blade of molten steel in his left hand. As Cloud watched, the angel raised his head to look at him. The angel looked into Cloud's eyes and laughed, thick dark blood oozing from his lips.

"Wake up!" he snapped. A sharp pain shot through Cloud's left breast just above his heart, but when he opened his mouth to scream freezing water flowed into his mouth and down into his lungs.

Cloud awoke in a strange place. He lay on soft earth, but a roof stood high above his head. A hole in the roof above allowed soft light to stream in. He shifted slightly, flexing his muscles and feeling for broken bones. He found them: a shattered left wrist and splintered forearm, cracked ribs, a useless right knee, and even a few dislocated vertebrae. The pain was bad, but he'd felt worse. He shut out the pain and focused instead on his next objective. He couldn't go anywhere broken as he was, but he felt the Buster Sword beneath him. If he could reach his healing materia…

"What are you doing!?"

The cry came from his right and was followed by hurried footsteps. Cloud cursed at himself for not detecting the girl earlier, but there was nothing for it. He grit his teeth and rolled left, pulling his sword from its sheath. He came up with just enough time to see the pail before it collided with his face. Cloud fell back and for a moment the pain ruled his senses.

"…had as much trouble in my life as I have with SOLDIER members, I swear," the woman was saying as he returned to himself. His whole body throbbed with pain and his uniform had become inexplicably soaked. "They can never just…hey!" Cloud looked up to see his own bruised face reflected in a pair of sea-green eyes. "Lie still! You're ruining the flowers, not to mention what you're doing to yourself."

"Flowers?" Cloud tried to turn his head, but the pain redoubled and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Yes, flowers," snapped the woman. "Now _lie still_."

Cloud thought to protest, but it would do no good. Even SOLDIER agents had their limits, and after falling a few hundred feet from the plate Cloud had discovered his. It was Barret's fault, of course.

"They're reelin'," he'd growled, smoke swirling around him in the dark office. "We hit 'em again an' they'll be on the ropes."

"No," Cloud said stiffly. "They're not weak, they're up in arms. We need to wait, or at least come up with a new angle."

"Shit," Barret smirked. "Just when I thought you were on our side, it looks like you're goin' soft."

Cloud's anger had risen to the bait, but a light touch on his arm stayed it.

"He's right, Barret," said Tifa. "The mission was a success, but you barely made it out of there. If we try again too soon they'll be ready for us."

But Barret didn't hear them. His thoughts were consumed by colored flames embracing the night sky. So Cloud, Tifa, Barret and Biggs had geared up and set out, walking straight into Shinra's trap. Cloud's chest tightened as he remembered the tears carving white lines across Tifa's dusty face. His reverie was interrupted suddenly by a familiar coolness spreading through his limbs. The pleasant tingling always reminded him of a hot day breaking into summer rain.

When the sensation faded, Cloud sat up and stretched his newly healed body. He was in an imposing stone church. The stained-glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling. Plywood boards covered the lower part of each window, but a rainbow of light streamed in from the uncovered top. Cloud sat on bare earth before the altar where someone had torn up the floorboards. All around him were gorgeous flower beds of crimson and azure and pure white.

Standing over him was a young woman holding his materia in her hand. She was dressed in a simple white sundress and her wavy brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. A pink ribbon was tied tightly on the bicep of her left arm and a gleaming white marble sat in a cheap, battered pendant hung around her neck.

"I know you," croaked Cloud.

"And I know you," the woman said shortly. "I'm Aeris."

"Cloud." He took in a deep breath and let it out sharply in a rattling cough.

"Mother, you sound like shit," Aeris said. "I was bringing you some water, you know." She gestured at the discarded pail. "If you hadn't started squirming around I wouldn't have had to hit you."

"Hm," Cloud grunted. "You wouldn't have had to, but something tells me you might have done it anyway."

"Funny," Aeris said flatly. "Here's your materia. There's the door. Don't trample the flowers on your way out."

"Wait a minute," Cloud said, getting to his feet and taking back the small green orb. "I thought you were all about second chances, but a guy falls through your roof and you just kick him out the door? Not only that, you don't even ask him where he came from or what happened?" Cloud frowned as the young woman evaded his gaze. "Something's not right. What do you know?"

Aeris looked at the ground and Cloud noticed her feet were bare. "I know who you are, Cloud," she said quietly, and anxiety tugged at Cloud's heart. "Your face is all over the news. Shinra says you're part of Avalanche, and that you helped sabotage the Number 1. You were trying to get the Number 5, but SOLDIER fought you back. I heard there was a lot of damage to the plate, so I guess you must've fell through during the fight."

"What about the others?" Cloud demanded. "Did anyone get caught?"

"One man, a deserter from the blueskulls. They…they executed him this morning. I'm sorry."

"This morning… How long was I out?"

"That's it?" Aeris snapped. "I tell you that one of your friends died and you're worried that you overslept?"

"This is war," said Cloud simply. "In war people die. Besides, he wasn't my friend."

"That's not the point!" she yelled, her hands clenched into fists. "You know what, get out. Get the hell out of my church! I have enough problems in my life without SOLDIER and Avalanche and all your stupid drama! Get out! Now!"

But Cloud stood frozen in place. Two men were ascending the stairs outside the church, their booted feet falling heavily on the cold stone steps. Cloud could hear one of them chattering in a low voice as they approached the tall oak doors. Aeris opened her mouth, but her angry shout became a squeak as Cloud swung up his massive sword and slipped two materia into its slots.

"Get behind me," he hissed.

Aeris watched Cloud as he squarely faced the door, ready for combat. "No," she declared, her mouth set in a grim line. "No killing. Not here. You don't have to fight them; there's another exit behind the—"

The heavy door groaned as it swung open and the two men entered. One was small and thin with messy red hair tied in a tangled ponytail, while the other was tall, broad, and bald. They both wore sky-blue SOLDIER 3rd Class uniforms, but only the larger man's was fastened neatly.

"…I'm just saying, Rude," the short one said as they stepped into the dim church. "We probably shouldn't have flown off the handle like that. She walked in that one time and she didn't even see anything." The one called Rude stopped short, his eyebrows rising from beneath his dark shades. His red-haired companion kept walking obliviously. "I know, I know, we can't have Tseng and Elena talking about us. But if we get _too_ offended we'll just seem defensive, and then everyone will know or at least suspect—"

"Reno."

Reno looked back at Rude then traced his gaze to the center of the church. His eyes widened as they fell on Cloud.

"Oh, fuck me," he gasped. Reno scrabbled for the longsword strapped to his back, but the buckles on his scabbard were loose and the weapon's hilt was hanging just out of his reach. While Reno spun on the spot trying to arm himself, Aeris grabbed Cloud's arm and pulled him towards a small opening behind the altar. As they passed through, a knife slammed into the doorframe, burying itself deep in the hard old wood.

"Hey!" screamed Aeris, stopping in the opening. "Watch the flowers!" Cloud's arm encircled her waist and pulled her out of the way as another gleaming blade glided past. "Come on," she shouted, pointing towards a small wooden door set into the wall. "The way out's this way."

"No," said Cloud. "It's what they'd expect. Hold onto me." Cloud tightened his grip on her and sprang upwards, grabbing a gap in the stone with his free hand. Aeris' fingers were driving into his shoulder, but she stayed silent. Cloud pushed off the wall and got high enough this time to catch a rafter. He pulled himself and Aeris up, setting her gently on the thick beam and holding a finger to his lips. She nodded, her eyes wide and staring, then very slowly she leaned forward and wrapped her arms and legs around the rafter.

"Hey, Reno," Rude's voice floated up. "She said watch the flowers."

"Yeah, I heard 'er. So what?"

"So respect it. That's her livelihood."

"Are you serious!? Come on, man, they're getting away!" Cloud watched as Reno and Rude emerged beneath him. "Oh, we are so fucked. That was the guy, right? That was definitely the guy. The commander's gonna have our asses." The two men crossed to the door and pulled it open. "Hey, Rude. There's no need to tell the commander about…you know…the sword thing, right? I mean, it could've happened to anybody. A freak accident. Hell, even if I did get my sword out, he would've kicked my ass. Did you see him and Dysley on the plate? Shit, Rude, she's damn lucky that explosion knocked him down when it did…" They stepped out into the street, their voices slowly fading. "Besides, the important part is they got away. It doesn't really matter _how_ they got away, does it? No, I think we better just let this slide. Hey, what're you doing after work?" The door shut behind them with a soft snatch and Cloud sighed with relief.

"Cloud," Aeris whimpered. "Could you maybe get me down? Please?"

"Not yet," he replied. "We can't just walk out the front door; there could be others. We'll go out the way I came in. I can carry you if you're too scared."

"No," she said, pushing herself onto her hands and knees. "I'm not afraid. Let's go."

Cloud thought she looked afraid, but he held his tongue. "All right. Follow me." He turned and walked along the rafter, crossing over the high stone wall that divided the main church from the chambers behind. Aeris followed, her arms held tightly at her side and her gaze fixed determinedly ahead. When they reached the hole in the roof, Cloud turned to Aeris. He picked her up by her waist and set her lightly outside before following himself. Once they were both on the shingled roof, Cloud stood up straight and surveyed the surrounding buildings.

"You should be able to climb down there, and there, and there," he said, pointing.

"Wait a minute," said Aeris, her hands on her hips. "You're not just going to let me walk home by myself? I'm a fugitive now. I need someone to protect me."

"Fine," Cloud sighed after a moment. "Which way?"


	7. Tifa I

**Chapter 5**

Jessie's face was a rigid mask when they came back. The mask remained as Tifa explained the trap had Shinra set and sprung at just the right moment, but it crumbled away as she reached the inevitable conclusion. Tifa and Barret had taken nearly a day to return to base. Shinra had their faces now, and the trains were no longer safe. They'd crawled through the plate, finally finding a maintenance elevator on the Sector 7 support. The whole time she tried not to think about Cloud.

By the time they got back, everyone knew. Shinra had taken Biggs' head on state television. When Tifa was finished speaking, Jessie quietly fled the dim back room. A desk door rattled open and Tifa turned to see Barret putting a half empty bottle of rust colored liquid and two crusty glasses in a small clean space. Four wooden planks had been inexpertly attached to the underside of the desk to repair the damage from Cloud's assault. The result was two slanted desks that stood crookedly side-by-side with a visible crack dividing them.

"She took it all right," Barret rumbled as he filled the glasses and held one out to Tifa. It looked no larger than a thimble in his massive hand. "She's a fighter, that one." Tifa took the glass and clutched it tightly, sinking quietly into a nearby seat. The desk chair cried sharply as the giant dropped into it, but he paid it no mind. Barret drained his liquor in one swift draught then refilled his glass. "Yeah, she'll be fine," he continued when Tifa remained silent. "She'll want payback soon, and she's gonna get it." The faintest tremor shook Tifa's arm, and she drew in a slow breath through her nostrils. "You, too," Barret chuckled. "I can tell you're fired up. Gonna get some justice for your man." Tifa's arm jerked and the brittle glass gave way in her hand. Broken shards scored her glove and the thirsty carpet drank up the spilled spirits.

"Aw shit," Barret grumbled, leaning over his desk. "You all right? Can't beat on Shinra with a busted hand, now…"

"Dammit, Barret!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "I'm not mad at the fucking Shinra!"

Barret's eyes widened in surprise, and his dark features were bewildered. "But what—"

"I don't give a fuck about him!" Tifa yelled. "But _you _got them killed, not Shinra! Biggs and… They're gone because you fucked up!"

"Bullshit!" Barret rose, towering over his lieutenant. "I didn't kill Cloud! It was those Mother-fucking Shinra bastards and you know it! You saw the whole damn thing!"

"I saw us walk right into a trap," Tifa retorted, "a trap that he and I saw coming a mile away. But, no! You had to have your goddamned war! Fuck Avalanche! And fuck you!"

Barret thundered as she turned on her heel and threw the door open, but Tifa didn't bother discerning the words. She felt the stares of the 7th Heaven patrons as she crossed the room, but she kept her head high all the way out the door. She had no clear idea of where she was going; her home was a small dirty bedroom above the bar. She strode through the slums for a mile before she passed a man lying senseless in an alley, and memory hit her like an angry wave.

It had been another night, and another alley, but each night faded into the next under the plate, and all the alleys beneath Sector 7 looked the same. On that night, the man in the alley had roused himself as Tifa passed, stumbling towards her. She had raised her fists to fight, but they fell to her side when he spoke her name. She barely recognized the man who stepped out the shadows, but after a moment she put a name to the face. Tifa hadn't seen Cloud in years. He had grown tall and strong, but his face was the same, and his blond hair was as unruly as ever. At first she thought he was drunk; his face was smudged and his eyes dim and unfocused. But as she spoke to him, his face changed, as though a curtain was drawn back from a window and she saw home within.

He knew about Nibelheim, and she was glad not to have to revisit the subject. She told him instead of the years she'd spent training under one master after another. Her travels had taken her from Wutai in the west, to Gongaga in the south, and, finally, to Midgar in the east across the sea. Tifa had ended her tale with a chance meeting with Barret in 7th Heaven. They'd commiserated over their mutual losses at the hands of the Shinra Company, and in that meeting Avalanche was founded.

Cloud had spoken little throughout this conversation, but he took interest in Avalanche. Only then did Tifa notice that Cloud's eyes burned with an unsettling light, and his face wore a cold expression like a man in an ill-fitting suit. He told her about how he'd joined SOLDIER and risen to 1st Class, before his conscience grew heavy and he was forced to desert. It was a simple story, but when she'd pressed him on the details, Cloud had grown distant, and pain flashed across his features. Tifa had let it be. She understood trauma better than most.

A door opened in her mind and memory came flooding forth, halting her in the street. The stench of smoke singed her nostrils and no matter where she turned she saw most of her father lying face-down in a dark puddle. An old ache traced the thick scar that crossed her abdomen. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, but Tifa pushed them away. Nibelheim was nothing but ash and memory, and Cloud was five years too late. It didn't matter that he was gone. She didn't need him anymore.

An iron grip on her arm wrenched Tifa back into the Midgar slums. A man had seized her from behind and pressed his body into hers. Sour breath wafted over her shoulder.

"Looks like you need someone to walk you home, baby," the man slurred. Tifa cursed herself. Letting your guard down in the slums was a sure way to get mugged…or worse. Master Godo could have beat her senseless by now. But there was no use in feeling sorry for herself.

"Let go of me," she demanded in a ringing voice. "Now."

"You hear that, lads?" the man laughed, his stench enveloping Tifa like a noxious cloud. "This one's got some fire in her. But that just makes it more fun…"

"You're right," said Tifa coldly. "But not for you." She seized his arms and bent forward suddenly, as though she meant to tuck into a somersault. The man yelled in surprise as he tumbled over her, releasing his hold and landing flat on his back. Tifa placed one knee on his chest, grabbed a flailing arm and twisted. The man screamed and Tifa felt a satisfying crunch. She rolled left and the next man's kick passed through empty air. She came up in time to catch the third man's punch and send him spinning. Only three. She was almost disappointed. Rather than wait for the next attack, Tifa decided to press her advantage. Hopping forward nimbly, she dealt three quick blows to her victim's chest. She swept her leg under him as he staggered backwards, dropping him gasping in the dirt. Tifa turned to see the last man standing before her with fists raised. He feinted right clumsily, shifting his weight without need, and Tifa punished him for it. She felt two ribs give way under her right fist and when his hands dropped she punched him squarely between the eyes.

She left the three men in the street: two wriggling like crushed worms, the third lying still as a dead log. Her head felt clearer than it had since their disastrous mission. Swallowing her pride, she returned to 7th Heaven. The bar was empty; an ominous sign of Barret's mood. Barret had bought the place a year ago, but the original owner still earned a healthy salary just by keeping his name on some paperwork and ordering liquor shipments. The bar made for a convenient hideout, but Avalanche's real income came from their raids on Shinra facilities. Medicine in particular fetched a high price at the slum market, although Tifa was surprised to find that Barret donated a sizeable portion of each haul to the local clinics.

"Avalanche ain't just about Shinra, y'know," he'd grumbled when Tifa brought it up. "Gettin' back at 'em's only half of it; we gotta get even, too. These people deserve some justice."

"Tifa!" Tifa smiled even before she turned towards the cry. A skinny girl with short golden hair abandoned her cleaning duties and darted across the room to throw her arms around Tifa's waist.

"Hey, Marlene," chirped Tifa, returning the hug. "I'm glad to see you, too, sweetie."

"The customers said you quit," said Marlene through a broad grin, "but I knew you'd be back. Daddy did, too. He's waiting for you in the office."

"He is?" Tifa had assumed that Barret would be furious. She'd never known Barret to let go of a fight. "I'd better go see him, then. Keep an eye on the shop for me?"

"Sure thing, Tifa!" The girl bounced happily back to her work, humming tunelessly.

Tifa tried to stifle her smile as she walked towards the office door, but it was no use. Barret claimed Marlene as his daughter, and no one ever questioned him. Still, anybody who believed that Marlene was Barret's own flesh and blood was a fool. She was small and pale where Barret was massive and dark, polite and reserved where he was brash and loud. Who Marlene's parents really were was a mystery, but there was no doubt that Barret cared for the girl as if she were his own.

Tifa stepped into the backroom and found Barret hunched over a pile of loose-leaf paper, a pair of half-moon reading glasses perched absurdly on his nose. He rose as she entered, sweeping the glasses off and dropping them into an open drawer.

"Tifa," he grunted. "I… I wanted to say sorry, y'know? I was outta line and… well… shit," he finished awkwardly, looking up at her.

Tifa had to smile. "You don't apologize much, do you?" Barret smiled crookedly. "It's all right," she continued. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to imply that it was your fault that… things went wrong."

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Barret spoke. "So, who's lying on their ass in an alley?" he asked wryly. Tifa looked at him sharply and he let out a bark of laughter. "I know you too well, Tifa. The only way you got your shit together this quick is if you handed some poor fool his ass. Who was it?"

"Just some slum-dwellers," Tifa said. "Three of them. Muggers, I think."

"Hmph," Barret snorted. "Doubt it was money they were chasing. More like they saw something they liked, thought they'd have a taste." He chuckled darkly. "I bet you gave 'em a taste, too; more 'n they wanted." He laughed again, then sighed. "Listen, I know it ain't what you wanna hear now, but I got work for you."

Tifa pulled up a chair and lowered herself into it cautiously. "What sort of work?"

"With both our ex-Shinra men gone, we need a new source of info. There's a man in Sector 6, runs something of a…gentleman's club. He entertains all sorts of clients, even Shinra. Man in that line of work hears shit, maybe important shit. I need you to get close, find out if he's on our side. If not, find out if we can squeeze the bitch."

Tifa raised an eyebrow. "Don Corneo," she said, disbelieving. "You're talking about sending me into Don Corneo's mansion? Alone?"

"I'd do it myself, but my lingerie's at the cleaners," Barret growled. "Besides, I think you can handle yourself."

Tifa sighed. She didn't like it, but he was right. Don Corneo was notorious for screening his clients with great care; a man with a past as checkered as Barret's would never get in the door. A pretty woman, on the other hand, was always welcome…provided she followed the rules. Tifa shuddered at the thought of what she might have to do, but if Avalanche was to survive… Besides, other women had sacrificed a lot more for a lot less.

"Fine," she said. "I'll do it."


	8. Aeris II

******A/N: **Once again, it's taken me two weeks to get back on track. It may well be that I'm just not able to write one of these chapters each week. I'll still do my best, and I don't think I'll fall behind one every two weeks, but we'll see. In the meantime, please enjoy another double-update. Chapters 5 & 6 are now up.

**Chapter 6**

Aeris saw no one on the winding path to the Sector 5 market, but she could feel their eyes. She knew the frightened faces lurking in the dark. While it had been many years since she counted herself among the wretched poor, she still pitied them. She remembered the whips of fear that drove her behind tin walls when Shinra approached. She looked up at him and frowned as she walked. She understood why people kept away, his set jaw and cold eyes radiated danger. Just walking beside him felt perilous, like standing too close to the edge of a platform as a train barrels by.

Aeris wondered why she'd requested his company. Sector 5 was her world, and no one, not even SOLDIER, could find her if she chose to disappear into its legion of makeshift shacks and forlorn alleys. The house she shared with her mother was likewise hidden, tucked into a forgotten corner of the slums beneath the Number 5 Reactor. The way to her home was known only to those born and raised in the slums, and chocobos would fly before such a person would speak to a Shinra plate-dweller. The road was no more dangerous now than it had been on a thousand walks before. So why did she bring him?

She remembered the night of the explosion and the woman's cryptic advice. Most of her words were forgotten, lost in the blur of what happened next, but one statement stood out in Aeris' memory.

"Bring him home," the woman had begged. "The one who will save you. Bring him home." Cloud had saved her in the church. Maybe they were supposed to stick together. Aeris looked up at him and knew she was wrong. She wasn't leading him back to her home because of some stranger's vague prophecy. She noted his posture, his alert gaze, his decorated uniform. She wasn't bringing home her savior. She wasn't even bringing home a man. Aeris was bringing home answers. She began to speak, but Cloud's voice broke through her own.

"You used my materia to heal me," he said sharply. "Who taught you to do that?"

"My boyfriend," Aeris lied. Zack had introduced her to materia, but she'd needed no instruction. The singing she heard when she touched the small colorful spheres was lesson enough. "He was in SOLDIER, too. He taught me how to use materia to heal small wounds and diseases. Did you know him? His name was Zack Fair."

Cloud stopped dead in the middle of the street, as though he'd seen something startling. Aeris turned back to face him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. For a brief moment Cloud stood as still as a mountain, then he shook his head. "No," he muttered quietly. "I never knew anyone like that."

"Really?" Aeris accused. "He was 1st Class. A hero of Wutai. He was in all the papers…"

"I don't read the papers," Cloud snapped, marching past her. "And I never knew him."

"Fine," sighed Aeris. "You didn't know him. Whatever." But she wasn't convinced. SOLDIER members were common enough in Midgar, but only the best of the best were promoted to 1st Class. Aeris just couldn't believe that two young SOLDIER men of about the same age would both be promoted to 1st Class, each without knowledge of the other. She tried to imagine a reason Cloud would lie, and was still thinking when they reached the market. Skeletal huts, unhitched trailers, and cheap wooden stands stood about in a weary jumble, forming a dense weave of narrow passages. On any other day, Aeris' way home would be barred by throngs of people, searching here and there for their next bit of good luck. Vendors offered food, clothing, weapons, and other slum essentials for patrons to buy (or steal) according to their means. But today the market was empty, the booths and shops standing abandoned like tombstones. Aeris didn't have to think much to discern the reason; it was common practice in the slums to go to ground at the approach of Shinra.

Aeris took Cloud's arm and steered him east through the tangled pathways. They were nearly through when she heard a distant cry from back on the west side of the market.

"Stay here," she told Cloud, slipping away towards the distressed pleas. Aeris knew where she was going before she emerged on the edge of the market. The Sector 5 clinic was nothing more than an old drainage pipe, discarded after the construction of Midgar. It was 8 feet in diameter, and extended back about 50 yards to another entrance on the opposite side. Boards had been laid down to make an even floor, but even so, Aeris sometimes got the impression that she was leaning one way or the other. In the middle of the pipe were a few cots behind a pale screen, along with some crates full of bandages, needles, and basic antibiotics. An armed guard had been posted on the stash for as long as Aeris could remember, though she had never heard of anyone trying to steal from it. The medicine was available to anyone in need, and the nurses were as effective healers as anyone else in the slums. A line of dim light bulbs strung from the ceiling illuminated the pipe interior as Aeris entered. Before Aeris' eyes had adjusted to the gloom, a frazzled-looking woman in her mid-fifties appeared out of the shadows wearing a dirty white smock.

"Oh, Aeris," the woman gasped. "Thank the Mother, I was just about to send one of the girls for you."

"Why?" Aeris asked nervously. "What is it, Edie?"

"Nothing really," Edie said, turning sharply and walking further into the pipe. "Just another vagrant. Still, a life is a life, I suppose. And after the way you helped the Parson child, I thought maybe we'd let you have a look."

"For the last time," sighed Aeris wearily, "I didn't do anything for Billy Parson. I just sat with him until your medicine kicked in."

"Honey, I've told you before: no medicine we got here could've fixed what was wrong with that boy. Now I been around a lot longer than you, and I never seen consumption give to dollar-store penicillin. No, you got the healing wind in you, sweetie. Here he is."

The two women halted at the foot of a forest-green cot and Edie drew aside the curtain. The cot was occupied by a man in the patched grey clothes of a clinic patient. The front of the man's shirt was stained a sickly yellow, and Aeris' stomach turned as the man groaned, rolled over, and retched into a nearby earthen bowl. The man rolled back, and let out an incomprehensible string of syllables that may have been a garbled attempt at speech.

"He's drunk," said Aeris in a low voice. "Dead drunk. Look at him, he doesn't even know we're here."

"That's what we thought, too. But after eight hours, a drunk man either sobers up or he dies. We picked up this sorry soul two days ago, and he was better than this when we found him. And then there's this…" Edie stooped down and shoved the man over onto his stomach. She hiked the shirt up to reveal a harsh scar on the small of the man's back, just above his buttocks. It looked as though he'd pressed against hot iron.

"It's a number," Aeris said, counting the loops and dots in the brand. "Fourteen in the language of the Ancients."

"And how would you know that?"

"Must've read it somewhere." Aeris reached down to touch the swirling script then recoiled with a yell as if burned. At the same time, the man arched his back, mingling a whimper with a sigh. Aeris examined her hand in confusion. His skin had stung her; her fingertips were red and inflamed. The man's restlessness seemed to quiet, and he slipped into a fitful sleep. Aeris turned to Edie, who rolled her eyes as if to say, 'I told you, girl. Healing wind."

Aeris slipped out quietly as Edie returned to her work. Cloud stood outside with a distant stare, looking for all the world like painted marble.

"Mako sickness," he said as she approached. "He won't last a week."

"What makes you so sure?" Aeris asked sharply.

"I've seen it," Cloud replied with a shrug. "The man probably worked in a reactor and got exposed to the core. Happens all the time. Shinra just dumps 'em down here to die. I guess they think it'd upset people to see them topside. They're right."

Aeris clenched her fists and set her jaw firmly, saying nothing. The SOLDIER member had to be the most insensitive man she'd ever met. Still, a fight now would accomplish nothing. Cloud knew something about Zack, that much was plain, and she wasn't about to let go of him until she knew what it was.

"Come on," she said firmly. "It's this way."

They passed through a few more rows of ramshackle buildings, and the passage grew narrower with each step. Finally, they came to what appeared to be the end of the road. The huts on either side of the street crowded up against a broad steel strut that towered above them. The pillar stood like a massive metal tree, its roots digging into the ground while high above them tubes spread like thick branches around the underside of the plate. The Sector 5 Reactor stood on the other side of the plate, and the pillar held it up. Without its support, all of Sector 5 could come crashing down on the heads of the people below. Whether by solid construction or sheer luck, the pillar had weathered the decades marvelously; it showed neither crack nor dent.

Aeris led Cloud through a narrow gap between the support strut and the home on the left, and the pair emerged in an open space behind the pillar. Aeris looked up at her home, and wondered what it must be like to see it for the first time. Her father had built it himself, back when he was the slum's doctor. Aeris couldn't remember her father; he'd been drafted as a medic in the Wutai War when she was just a baby. But her mother said that she'd never known a man to be more respected in the slums.

As far as Aeris knew, her house was the only two-story house in the slums. The ground floor was cobbled together from collected scrap metal, but the frame was still strong enough to support a wooden second story (so long as it leaned against the pillar). Aeris had always thought it looked like two houses stacked one on top of the other. When she was younger, there had even been real glass in the windows, but the panes had been sold long ago. After her father had died in Wutai, she and her mother could not afford such luxuries. Now the windows were covered, and the house inside was always dark.

Still, it was not without some measure of pride that Aeris led Cloud through the creaking front door. A savory scent wafted from the kitchen, and Aeris heard the banging and clattering that always accompanied her mother's cooking.

"Mom," she called. "I'm home!"

Aeris' mother hurried out of the kitchen, one rebellious strand of brown hair hanging loosely from a tight bun. Her faded green apron was stained with patches of white flour, and Aeris was amused to see a smudge on her cheek as well.

"Well, it's about time," she chided. "I was just about ready to—" She froze as her eyes took in the tall figure standing at Aeris' shoulder. "Oh, Aeris…" she gasped breathlessly.

"It's okay, Mom," Aeris said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "This is Cloud. He's a friend. Cloud, this is my mother, Elmyra."

Cloud stepped forward slowly and held out a hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a low, even voice.

Elmyra shrunk back. "Aeris, he's… He's a…"

"No, Mom, it's okay. Cloud's not SOLDIER! He's… Well, see, the thing is…"

"I quit," Cloud said simply, his hand still extended.

Elmyra's eyes darted from Cloud to her daughter, then back again. At last she inched forward timidly and reached for Cloud's hand like she would reach for a viper. But Cloud stood patiently, and when their hands met he shook firmly once and released her.

"Well," Cloud said firmly. "I need to go. Goodbye, Aeris. Nice meeting you, ma'am."

"Wait!" Aeris cried. He couldn't go. Not yet. She hadn't found out anything. "You've never been in the slums before. You don't know how to get to…wherever it is you're going. I can help! I'll show you!"

"Aeris!"

Aeris rounded on her mother. "Please, Mom," she begged. "I won't be gone long. I'll be back before dark, I promise. I'll be safe!"

"Look," said Cloud, "it's really not—"

"I'm going with you," Aeris snapped fiercely, "whether you like it or not. Come on."

"No!" Aeris turned in surprise to see her mother standing tensely with her arms held stiffly at her sides. She couldn't remember her ever raising her voice, not even when her nerves were at their worst. Elmyra seemed surprised at herself, and it was a moment before she cleared her throat and spoke more evenly. "I mean, not tonight, dear. It's already so late. Cloud, won't you stay for dinner? You can leave first thing in the morning."

Aeris couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, Mom!" she cried, bounding forward to embrace her mother. I'll be safe! Really! It'll be ok, you'll see. I'll get ready for dinner. Be right back!" She dashed for the steps, taking them two at a time. Cloud remained behind with her mother, but Aeris didn't care. Tomorrow she was going on an adventure, and maybe, just maybe, she'd finally get the answers she'd been waiting for.

5


	9. Fran II

**A/N:**

I'm really sorry this chapter took so long; I really struggled with it. It's still not where I'd like it to be, but I think I have to just leave it alone for a while and come back to it with fresh eyes. In the meantime, I'll keep going with the story. Hopefully it won't be so long between updates this time! Next is Don Corneo's "mansion," but I'm not sure yet from whose perspective it'll be told. I'm leaning towards Cloud since we haven't heard from him in a while, but I'd love to hear what y'all think!

**Chapter 7**

He survived the fall. Fran almost couldn't believe it, but a small part of her knew better. _You saw the death at Nibelheim_, her own voice whispered in her ear. _You've seen what a man can survive._ Her jaw clenched. She was being foolish. This was not Nibelheim. She was stronger now, a SOLDIER 2nd Class. Fran returned her attention to the two men before her. Rude was standing still, but taut as a strained cord. Reno was smiling as if at ease, but his hands, desperately plucking at his sleeves, betrayed him.

"So," Fran said flatly, "you located the target, awake and alert, and engaged him in combat. Unfortunately, you were bested, and received various...painful injuries." Fran cast an eye over their intact bodies. Reno winced and set to rubbing his left wrist. "After recovering from this brief encounter, you reported back. Promptly and diligently." Rude looked so tense Fran thought he might snap in half.

"That's right, ma'am," chattered Reno. "We tried to stop him, but he was just too strong. You know how Turks are; just because they're not SOLDIER anymore doesn't mean they don't still have the moves, you know? I think we tapped 'im a couple times, though. I'm sure I got 'im in the leg, and Rude didn't do so bad himself, did you, Rude?"

Fran raised an eyebrow. "Did you, Rude?"

"No, ma'am," Rude grunted. He swallowed hard. "Not so bad."

Fran checked them over again. Rude was nervous as she'd ever seen him, but hiding it well. There was no guilt in his pose, merely discomfort. She turned her thoughts to Reno. Everything seemed the same at first: his smile, his messy hair, his unbuttoned uniform, his sword belt… Fran's hand clenched before she caught herself and relaxed it. Reno's normally loose-hanging sword was snugly nestled between his shoulder-blades.

"A pretty story," she said quietly. "It would completely excuse your failure, were it true." The color drained from Reno's face and Rude gulped again. "I don't know why you think I'll put up with bullshit from my men, but I won't." She stood slowly and walked around the table that took up most of the small room. The two men seemed to shrink as she approached. "The Mother made you a fuck-up, Reno, and I have to accept that. But I will not allow you to insult my intelligence with such a transparent lie." Fran looked pointedly at Reno's sword hilt and gave a contemptuous smirk. The two points of color that rose in Reno's cheeks confirmed her guess. At least the fool would never leave that weakness open again. He could learn. "You're cut off for four weeks. Hope you've got something tucked away for a rainy month."

"But, Commander—"

"I can make it two months," she stated plainly, as though she were describing the weather. Not a threat, a simple statement of fact. Reno's mouth snapped shut and he adopted a wounded expression. A month without Shinra meant a month of finding his own food, housing, and clothing. But the threat was worse than the sting; an off-duty SOLDIER who couldn't thrive in the slums didn't belong in the outfit.

"And you," she rounded on Rude. "The next time you cover for this useless shithead, you get the same as him."

"What were we supposed to do?" Reno spluttered. "Whether or not we went after him, he still would've gotten away! Mother, he probably would've killed us! Even you couldn't finish him, what chance did we have?"

Rude's eyebrows peeked out from underneath his dark glasses, but Reno just stared boldly at Fran.

"Leave us," she said to Rude. The big man gave a hasty salute and fled the briefing room as fast as his dignity would allow. Reno watched him go before turning back to Fran.

"Commander, I—" Her fist drove the air from his lungs, and Reno collapsed, gasping like a beached fish. Fran squatted beside him as he convulsed. She wanted to make sure she was understood.

"The solar plexus," she whispered, "is a cluster of nerves just beneath your breastbone. Here." She tapped his chest and he rolled away with another choking gasp. "The blow yours just received was strong enough to paralyze your respiratory system for a good 90 seconds. Just long enough for this little chat. Any longer and you would lose consciousness and suffer brain damage, SOLDIER endurance or no. Did you know that 2nd Class SOLDIERs reserve the right to kill Thirds under their command? I thought it was just a rumor until I was promoted, but it's true, Reno. I spare you today because there's no honor in killing a comrade. But cowardice is just one step away from treason, and killing a traitor… There's honor in that, for sure. So the next time you consider dodging your sworn duty to the Company, you think about who you'd rather face: the target…or me." Fran wrenched Reno off the ground by his collar and dragged him to the door of the cramped room. "Now, get the fuck out. I don't want to see your sorry ass back at headquarters for two months." She hurled him bodily into the hall, then stood in the doorway and watched him scurry away like a kicked dog.

As soon as Reno rounded the corner, Fran exhaled sharply. She looked down and found her hands trembling. SOLDIER members were supposed to feel no emotion; it was a weakness that was worked out of them in training. But she had acted in anger. Fran had suffered Reno's foolish tongue before, but this time was different. This time he'd cut deep. This time he was right. When it came right down to it, just her and the target, she couldn't finish him.

The scene rolled unbidden through Fran's mind for the thousandth time. Hoping to take them by surprise, she'd concealed herself on the ledge above the reactor entrance. Three wore Shinra uniforms, as though they were simply coming to work early. Elena had let them pass the gate, but Fran saw right through to their darting eyes and hurried gait. Her hand tensed on the hilt of her sword, but before she could spring she saw a man in the black uniform of a SOLDIER 1st Class striding across the grounds.

His face had a sharper look about it than she remembered, and he'd done something to his hair, but she'd only ever seen one sword like the one he carried. One of the two men behind the massacre at Nibelheim was walking towards her, tall and proud and very alive. Still, it could have been worse. He could have been the other man. Fran had been planning to let them get directly beneath her, then descend and cut them down from behind, but the traitor's appearance called for an adjustment. She had to eliminate him now, before she lost her advantage.

Fran had leapt into the air, sword at the ready, and time seemed to slow. The terrorists below didn't bat an eye at the shadow that rippled over them and her target didn't seem to notice his death approaching. But Elena did. The stupid girl stood there, jaw sagging open, eyes wide and staring right at her. The man didn't have to see Fran; he saw Elena. As Fran fell back to earth, glinting steel held before her, the man reached for the hilt of the massive sword strapped to his back. _Too late_, she remembered thinking. _He'll never get it out in time._ But as she drew close, close enough to see his eyes, close enough to strike, he flinched. Her blade sliced through air and bit pavement. She had just enough time to bring her sword back up before she heard the whistle of cutting air that heralded his counter-attack. Their swords met with a crash that knocked the feeling from her arms, and she chose to side-step his next strike. He pressed his attack, but Fran turned his blade and struck back, tearing the fabric of his uniform but leaving skin intact.

They exchanged another blow, then another and another. Their blades came together and spun apart, their feet shuffled in an intricate dance. After what seemed like forever, Fran had realized that her enemy was bleeding. She'd scored gashes on his left thigh and shoulder, another on his right bicep, and one shallow cut that crossed his abdomen at a crooked angle. Yet for all that, the man stood as straight as ever, and his attacks came faster and stronger with each passing moment. She was better, but she was tiring. There had been no expression on her foe's face, no pity in his faintly glowing eyes. Fran marshaled her last reserves of strength and said a silent prayer to the Mother. She lunged forward, slashing wildly up, down, left, right. The man fell back, and Fran drew blood once more from his right arm and then again from a new wound on his hip. But her next jab met the broad side of his blade, and when she aimed a cut at his neck he brushed it lazily aside. She ducked a two-handed swing meant to split her head, but not quickly enough to save her shoulder. In a heartbeat, the left side of her uniform was soaked with blood and her left arm all but useless.

Fran hadn't heard the explosion so much as felt it. The blast knocked her off her feet and the ground tilted wildly to one side. She found out later the man carrying the bomb had detonated it to cover his escape. The bomb had blown a hole in the plate large enough for a car to fall through, and it only widened as the concrete crumbled away from the edges. Fran rolled onto her side and found herself face-to-face with a 600-foot drop. Through the cloud of rising smoke and cement dust, she caught a glimpse of her opponent hanging from a twisted pipe below her. She heard a screech of shearing metal and a new cloud erupted in her face. When it cleared, the man was gone.

The scene began again from the beginning as she walked down the hall to the elevator. She was better than him with a sword, that much was plain. His strokes were clumsy, his moves predictable. She should have killed him a dozen times. If she had fought harder in the beginning, maybe she could have overwhelmed him. If she had saved her strength, maybe she could've waited for him to slip up. But he was so strong, and faster than a striking zolom. And in every imagined scenario, those flat, lifeless eyes never left her. _It doesn't matter what you do_, those eyes said. _Fight all you want. It only ends one way._

Fran trembled in spite of herself and jabbed the call button. She needed to be stronger. That was the only way she would ever stand a chance if she fought him again. The easiest way would be through materia. Certain types of materia could augment her strength and speed, and as a 2nd Class SOLDIER she could requisition whatever she needed from the Shinra armory. Materia could close the gap, if they didn't drive her mad first. Mako sickness was far from well-understood, but everyone agreed that materia use contributed to the condition. The only other option she could see was to be promoted. 1st Class SOLDIER initiates underwent radical treatment to augment their bodies, emerging with dramatically enhanced strength and a faint glow behind their eyes. It was the harder road, but also the safer. Besides, Fran had never shied away from a challenge.

She reached out to press the call button again, then drew back as the elevator doors slid open and Henrik emerged.

"Dysley," he grunted, shifting his weight to his good leg with a grimace. "Good, I was hoping I'd find you. The suits handed down a mission, just for you and your band of misfits."

"Suits, sir?" Fran had to have misheard him. She hadn't been 2nd Class nearly long enough.

"You heard me, Dysley" Henrik growled, but a thin smile softened his words. "Heidegger himself asked for you. Didn't I always say you were on the fast track?"

It couldn't be. The Commander General of Shinra's armed forces asked for SOLDIER members by name for one reason only: to vet them for 1st Class.

"I suppose now she _has_ to give up the 'sir's," Henrik mused. He looked up at Fran standing dazed before him. "Well, go on," he barked. "Make 'em wait too long and they'll reconsider the offer. Go!" Fran stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the lobby. She hoped Reno hadn't gone too far. Proving missions were always exceptionally difficult, and she was going to need every man.


	10. Tifa II

**A/N:** Whereas I struggled with Fran's last chapter every step of the way, this one almost seemed to write itself. I'm still not sure whether or not that's a good thing. Observant readers may have noticed that I changed this story from a T rating to M. If you're wondering why, you'll probably stop wondering after reading this chapter. When I was an adolescent, I thought Don Corneo's mansion was hilarious. The shimmering lights, goofy characters and silly music were absolutely precious. I'm a bit older now, and I'm proud to say I've learned some things. Unfortunately, one of the things I learned is that establishments like Don Corneo's mansion are all too real, and there's not a single funny thing about them. The United States Office on Drugs and Crime estimates that as many as 2.5 million people, many of them underage girls forced into prostitution, are enslaved at any given moment worldwide. If you're interested in human trafficking, I encourage you to get some professional help, you sick fuck. For the rest of you, please visit the website for the Blue Heart Campaign against Human Trafficking for more information on what you can do to help

Now that the serious stuff is out of the way, enjoy Tifa punching Cloud in the throat (I know I did).

**Edit: **Fixed a few minor typos. Next chapter coming within the week!

**Chapter 8**

Don Corneo's "mansion" was the centerpiece of the Sector 6 slum, and over the years a collection of stands had grown up around it like mold, hawking every vice known to man. Desperate men and women sold drugs, stolen goods, and themselves. Tifa's stomach turned as her cart rattled past a thin, mean-looking man auctioning off a naked girl. The girl's hands hung limp at her sides and her wide eyes stared dully ahead. She couldn't have been older than twelve. Tifa's hands clenched in her lap. It all came back to Shinra. The corporation treated people like animals, so they became animals.

Tifa's eye caught a head of unruly blond hair and she looked away quickly. She found herself staring fixedly at the driver's back and shook her head. He was dead. This time he was really dead. Master Godo's voice rang in her head, _Hot hearts may win a battle, but they always lose the war._ Tifa inhaled slowly through her nostrils and hissed through her teeth. By the time the cart creaked to a stop her hands lay still.

The mud splashed up to her knees as she stepped off the cart, but it still fell far short of her thin, sky-blue chemise; the garment barely covered her ass. The harnessed chocobo squawked as she walked by and she stroked its dirty yellow feathers absently. The large bird had a wasted look, its head hanging on a too-thin neck, but even a starving chocobo was a luxury in the slums. The mansion stood before her, one of the rare professionally constructed buildings below the plate. It was a squat, three-story structure of expensive stone, and its many upper-story windows sported brightly-colored curtains. Gaudy ribbons hung down from the eaves, and a pair of lanterns fashioned to resemble shapely women framed dark steel double-doors. The colorful trimmings did little to disguise the strong, thick walls or reinforced entrance; the place was more of a fortress than a mansion. It wouldn't hold up to any serious assault, but it would certainly turn away a loosely organized band of slum-dwellers.

"Inside, girl," the cart driver grunted before snapping the reins and steering the chocobo back in the direction they'd come. The people shuffling along the streets didn't look twice at the bird or the girl; they'd seen it all a dozen times. Tifa climbed the steps to the front door and pressed the garish golden buzzer. She hunched her shoulders and stared at her feet. Sometimes strength was an asset, but in a place like this it would just make her a mark to be conquered. Better to let them believe she was already broken.

Tifa heard the sound of a bolt being withdrawn and one of the doors swung open on silent hinges. A man stood in the doorway in a dark red uniform. Two columns of brass buttons ran down the front of his jacket, and a crisp crease stood out on each pant leg. His skin was dark and his face was harsh, all lines and sharp angles. His eyes roamed up and down her body, and Tifa chose not to suppress a shudder.

"Follow," the porter said, turning on his heel and striding into the hall. Tifa shuffled after him, keeping her eyes on the luxurious carpet under her feet. Behind her, a second man closed the door with a loud snap. The uniformed man led Tifa up a set of plush steps, down a hall, and into an empty room. Tifa dared to lift her eyes and scan her surroundings. A small, stained mattress sat on a rusted bed-frame in one corner. Against the opposite wall stood a chipped stone basin, large enough for Tifa to fit in if she drew her knees up to her chest. The only quality piece of furniture in the bare room was a large oak wardrobe across from the door.

"You will wait here," the porter commanded, giving her one last appraising look before leaving the room. She heard the scrape of a key in the lock, but after a moment she stepped over to the door and tried it anyway. The lock was flimsy, but shattering it would make noise. She didn't want to draw attention just yet. A creak outside alerted Tifa to someone approaching and she shrank back from the door, doing her best to look frightened. The lock scraped again and a bent old lady entered, a much younger woman dogging her heels. The older woman was smaller than her companion, but she had a fierceness in her features that reminded Tifa of a hawk. Her dress was simple, but elegant, hiding her frailty while accentuating her wide hips. The girl wore yellow and black striped lingerie, and a pair of ridiculous cloth wings had been fastened to her back.

"You are the new arrival, yes?" Tifa was still deciding whether or not to answer when the woman approached her with surprising speed and slapped her forcefully across the mouth. "You will speak when spoken to, bitch," the woman sneered. "I am Mistress Isabel, and I didn't get to where I am today by wasting time with girly foolishness. What is your name?"

"S-Sarah, ma'am." It was a weak lie, but Tifa's head was still ringing, as much from surprise as from the blow.

"That won't do," Mistress Isabel muttered to herself. "No, not at all. The outfit's all wrong, too. Something to go with your hair. Something that men will kill to peel off you." The woman cackled and Tifa's stomach rolled. "Yes, we'll find you something dark. They'll call you the Raven Queen, and men will come from all over the world to taste you. So long as you behave. Now lie on the bed and spread your legs."

_Hot hearts may win a battle…_ Tifa lay back on the filthy mattress, rolling her hands into fists. She thought of the mission, of Marlene, of anything that might distract her from the shrew's rough examination. Mistress Isabel withdrew with a sniff.

"You seem healthy enough. Honeybee!" The girl jumped and scurried over.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Get her cleaned up and dressed proper. I want her to shine when she's presented to the Don." Mistress Isabel favored Tifa with a leer that tugged at Tifa's gut more painfully than the porter's indecent stares. The older woman swept out of the room, locking Tifa in with the girl called Honeybee. As soon as she was gone, Tifa leapt to her feet, fists trembling. She paced back and forth, trying to slow her heartbeat. It was no use; her breathing was ragged and her blood pounded in her ears.

"You're not like us." Tifa froze; she had completely forgotten she was not alone. Honeybee was staring at her with wide eyes. The girl's lip trembled. She looked as if she'd surprised herself by speaking.

"I—"

"Are you going to kill them?" the girl whispered. Tifa wondered suddenly how old she was. Her face was still fresh and unlined, but her eyes had a glaze to them, as though her youth had been smothered by what she'd seen…and what she'd done. "I won't tell," she pleaded. "I swear, I won't tell a soul. That's why you're here, isn't it? People like you don't come to…places like this."

"Yes," Tifa mumbled through numb lips. Corneo had to live long enough to spill Shinra's plan, but her instructions went no farther than that. It wasn't what she was here to do, but looking at the child who had been twisted into 'Honeybee,' she knew her answer was true. "I will kill them all."

The girl almost smiled, but a pair of voices drifted from the other side of the door and her face became a blank mask.

"…didn't even have to come," a man was saying. "I told you to go back home."

"And just how would you have got in without me?" a woman replied in acid tones. "Were you going to dress up as a woman? No, that'd be too subtle for you. You'd probably just kick in the door and cut a path to Tifa." Tifa's heart plunged into her stomach. They were looking for her. It had to be Shinra, there was no one else. Holding a finger to her lips, she crept silently to the locked door and flattened herself against the wall beside it. "A fine spot that would put us in," the woman continued. "We'd probably never make it out alive."

"_You_ might not."

"Har har." The doorknob rattled. "It's locked. You're sure she's in there?"

"I'm sure. She came this way; I can smell it."

"Ugh. If that's the kind of thing you feel like sharing, I can only imagine what you keep bottled up. So creepy…"

"Are you going to open the door or not?"

"I told you, it's locked. So unless you were a locksmith in a past life…"

"Move."

"Why? What are you—"

The door exploded inwards with an ear-splitting crack. Honeybee screamed as she was showered in splinters and bits of metal from the iron lock. Tifa turned the corner and struck at the man's neck. Cloud fell back with a choking gasp, and Tifa's knees gave way. She clutched at the shattered door-frame to keep from falling. It couldn't be. He fell from the plate. Yet there he was, clambering unsteadily to his feet, massaging his throat.

"Mother…" the woman to his right breathed. She was a pretty brunette with large green eyes. She wore a sleeveless scarlet evening gown, and her chestnut hair was tied back in a pink ribbon. A burnished pendant set with a white marble hung on a thin chain around her neck. "I'm Aeris," the woman said, "and I'd like to shake your hand. I've been wanting to do that all—"

"Idiot!" Tifa shrieked, kicking Cloud as hard as she could in his abdomen. He grunted, but stayed on his feet. A door opened down the hall, and a large shirtless man emerged. "Useless fuckwit! You'll ruin everything!" Without another word, she took off down the hall at a dead sprint. Maybe it wasn't too late; maybe Corneo hadn't heard. The large man reached for her, but she spun nimbly around him without missing a step. Tifa realized she had no idea which room was Don Corneo's, but her fears vanished as she rounded a corner. A set of shining gold doors were set at the end of the hall, framed by ornate carvings of nude women in suggestive poses. She threw her full weight against the doors and stumbled as they swung open on oiled hinges.

A short, round man with thinning blond hair was struggling to shove aside a tall, heavy bookcase to access a hidden passage. Sweat stood out on his head, slicking his already oily hair. When Tifa burst in, the man turned towards her with a terrified moan. He was wearing only a silk bathrobe, untied and flapping open obscenely. Dark sweat-stains grew steadily under his arms.

"Please," he blubbered. "Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything! I'll tell you anything!"

Tifa took a step forward, raising her fists menacingly. Behind her she heard Aeris shout something, followed by a roar of flame.

"Shinra," Tifa demanded. "How much do they know?" She inwardly cursed Cloud. If it hadn't been for him, she would've had time to work Corneo. He would have told her everything she wanted to know and more, and he would have thought it was all his idea. But Cloud had betrayed her again. She had to make do with what she had. "How are they planning to hit Avalanche?"

"They're not," Corneo sobbed. Another explosion shook the room and Aeris ducked inside. Her face was smeared with soot.

"Cloud's coming behind," she coughed. "The building's on fire; we can't get out the way we came in."

"What do you mean they're not?" Tifa shouted, advancing on Corneo. "What are they planning?"

"An ambush," Corneo gasped. "Take you by surprise. When you go to blow the pillar. They know you're planning to drop the plate on Sector 7."

"But we're not—" Tifa stopped. The room spun around her. "Mother… They wouldn't… Not to their own people."

Cloud strode past Tifa towards the bookshelf. He shoved Corneo aside and the man fell squealing to the ground. Taking hold of the shelf with one hand, he pulled it back out of the way. Aeris fled down the dark passageway but Cloud turned back. "Tifa, come on."

"Cloud, they—"

"I heard. There's no time. We have to go now if we want any shot at stopping them."

Forcing her legs to work, Tifa ran past the bookshelf and found herself flying down a set of spiral stairs in the dark. _Mother have mercy_, she thought as she ran. _Mother have mercy. Not even Shinra could be that evil. Could they?_

5


	11. Cloud III

**Edit:** Fixed the ending. I have a bad habit of rushing to finish a chapter and tripping over myself at the end. It's still not great, but it's better than it was. First Barret chapter next, then I think maybe another Fran? We'll see.

* * *

The sewer stank, a rich, cloying odor of waste and disease. Cloud heard Aeris choke behind him, but Tifa's rapid footfalls echoed steadily. Still, the women were falling behind. He locked his jaw, clenched his fists, and forced himself to slow his pace. Maybe he could reach the pillar in time, maybe not. But he couldn't leave Aeris and Tifa alone in the dark.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder. "This way. There's light ahead." Ahead another tunnel crossed the path at a right angle, creating a four-way junction. Cloud swung right around a corner and came face-to-face with a sahagin. In the dim ghost-light he could make out the flat, reptilian head perched atop its long scaly neck. Fish eyes stared dully at him out of an almost human face. The sewer took in the run-off from the reactors, and the mutagenic sludge gave rise to all kinds of hideous monsters. Still, as far as sewer mutants went, sahagin were no threat. Bigger things crept in the dark.

The creature raised a rusted steel rod like a spear in webbed hands, but Cloud swept the weapon aside with his fist. There was no time to free his sword, so Cloud threw his shoulder into the sahagin's torso, splitting its protective shell with a sharp crack. It let out a dying croak and tumbled into the fetid water.

"What the hell was that?" gasped Aeris as she and Tifa came around the corner. Seeing Cloud had stopped, Aeris slumped against the stone wall wearily. No sooner did her skin touch the slick stone than she leapt back with a disgusted cry.

"Are you all right?" asked Tifa.

"Fine," Cloud said. He scanned the tunnel and detached his sword from its place on his back. There was never just one sahagin; the damn things hunted in packs. Straight ahead down the tunnel was a dim shaft of light. "We need to keep moving. The light's coming from an opening ahead. Probably a manhole. Get going, I'll bring up the rear."

The women dashed off down the tunnel as another croak echoed from the shadows behind. Cloud set off after them as another rough voice joined the first, followed by another, then another. Soon the women's steady footsteps and panting breaths were drowned out by a chorus of babbling, inhuman cries. The noise bouncing off the walls confused Cloud's senses, so he didn't notice the first attack until it was already upon him. A slimy hand seized his shoulder, and would have lost its purchase but for its nails, hooked and sharp like talons. Cloud grunted in surprise and pain. He twisted and threw himself sideways, slamming the creature between himself and the unyielding wall. The hand's grip loosened, and Cloud spun around. With a sweep of his sword, he hewed off the creature's arm. The next stroke took its head. Cloud saw a half dozen more of the things crawling out of the sewage behind, and a scream from Aeris told him there were more ahead. They were surrounded. Cloud reached for the materia in his sword, its song already ringing in his head.

A loud splash echoed through the tunnels, and the water rose sharply to lap at the edges of the walkway. The sahagin halted their advance and glanced nervously at one another. Cloud looked quickly over his shoulder. The creatures menacing Tifa and Aeris had stopped as well. Their heads were cocked as if they were listening for something, although Cloud noted that pale, clammy skin stretched tight over where their ears should be. Suddenly, the sahagin closest to Cloud let out a long, low croak and turned away. The others silently followed its example, waddling to the filthy stream's edge on bowed legs and slipping into the water with surprising grace.

Tifa slowly lowered her fists. "What the—"

"Shh!" Cloud listened carefully, opening himself to all the sounds around him. He started close, hearing every noise and sketching its location, just as he'd been taught. The rhythmic rushing was the water, the quiet scrape a shifting boot. When he had a clear picture of the immediate surroundings, he stretched his senses outwards. _Slow and smooth_, he remembered. _Fold outwards like a blooming flower._ A rat squeaked around the corner. Beyond that, something that may have been a sahagin splashed quietly in the stream. Beyond that…

Cloud's grip tightened on the Buster Sword's hilt. He heard the clink and clank of dragged chains. He heard heavy knocking, two hooves clapping on stone. He heard breathing like the working of a massive bellows. The sounds grew louder as they drew closer. He listened to the noise approach, his feet rooted to the cement. Aeris and Tifa stood motionless behind him, their bodies stiff and tense. They heard it now, too. The echoing noise of the sewer challenged him, but Cloud estimated the thing was no more than forty paces down the tunnel they'd just left. It stopped. Cloud could still hear its breathing, loud and heavy, but the chains had stopped clinking. Sweat sprang out on his brow and his heart pounded wildly on his ribs. A stench worse than the sewer wafted from the shadows: blood and sweat and rotting meat. Cloud's stomach turned, but his hands were still steady. Then the chains rang out loudly, followed by a splash and a terrible squeal. Cloud listened to the high, rasping screams of a sahagin fade away into the dark.

Cloud waited, but no sound came. No chains, no steps, not even any breathing. It was gone.

"Oh," sighed Aeris, her shoulders slumping. "Thank the Moth—"

A roar exploded from the shadows, carrying with it a hot wave of stinking air. Fire sprang into Cloud's hand and the materia's chorus drowned out the world. In the sudden light he saw a massive, hairy head with small beady eyes. Tusks as long as Cloud's arm and dagger-shaped fangs protruded at odd angles from a short snout. The beast threw up a heavily muscled arm to shield its eyes. Broken chains hung from shackles on its thick wrists, clattering like bones. Cloud hurled flame at the beast, sustaining the flow of energy until he thought his head would burst from the singing. He stood tall, mad with fear, drunk with power, bathing the tunnel in flame. The voices from the materia cried louder, and Cloud's own thoughts were lost among them. He remembered the first snow at the foot of the Nibel mountains, early in the fall. He remembered shafts of sunlight on the dappled coat of a coeurl, and he was close enough to count the hairs. He remembered the weight of the net hauled into the boat, and the rough bite of the rope in his hands. He saw a thousand lives in the fire; which one was his?

_Cloud, _a little voice whispered. _You are Cloud Strife from Nibelheim, and if you don't let go of that fire you'll die weak, wasted, and mako-sick. Now, wake up! _ Cloud cut himself off from the materia and ran.

His legs felt like lead, and his lungs ripped open with every breath. He'd put too much of himself into the fire. Even with all the enhancements of SOLDIER 1st Class, a man had his limits. Tifa and Aeris were standing beneath the opening, staring up at it with dazed expressions. For an absurd moment, Cloud wondered why they'd waited for him. Then he saw the ladder lying in a heap, eaten through by rust long ago. He skidded to a halt below the hole to the surface 20 feet above. The beast roared behind him again. The light from the flames was dying. Cloud's body burned, but he thought he had just enough strength to jump to the surface. But the women...

He crouched and shouted, "Tifa!" She looked sharply at him and understood quickly. Cloud sheathed his sword and meshed his hands. She ran at him, and as soon as she stepped into his hands he pulled up, shoulders silently screaming in protest. He tossed her up towards the surface and watched as she caught the edge. He turned to Aeris. "Aeris, come on!"

Her eyes were wide. "But—" The monster's roar smothered her protest. The light of the fire was nearly gone, and the shadows had stolen back into the tunnel. Chains rattled in the dark. She ran at him, but in the dim light her foot missed his hands. As she stumbled into him, Cloud seized her around the waist and threw her bodily up. She screamed, but Tifa caught her and hoisted her up through the hole. Cloud's shoulders ached, his knees trembled. His hand reflexively sought the hilt of the Buster Sword, but when he pulled it away from his back it was too heavy to lift. The tunnel floor rumbled under his feet. He'd never make the jump, but he had to try. The monster's rancid breath rolled over him. Summoning the last of his strength, Cloud pushed himself nearly 15 feet into the air and missed Tifa's hand by an arm's length. As he fell, the massive beast appeared just below him, blinking stupidly up into the light. Cloud almost smiled. The beast was ten feet tall. He planted one boot squarely on its forehead and kicked off desperately. This time he caught her.

Cloud found himself flat on his back, panting wildly and staring up at the underside of the plate. A furious howl echoed from somewhere nearby.

"Wake up, Cloud!" Tifa was shouting. "We have to go. Now! They're going to bring down the plate!" Cloud sat halfway up and his head swam sickeningly. Grunting, he rolled onto his front and struggled onto his hands and knees. Abruptly he felt a hand on his back, soothing as a cool summer rain.

"Cloud," said Aeris. "We need you."

Cloud stood up and straightened his back with a grimace. He realized he was still clutching his sword. Had he dropped it, he would have been 50 pounds lighter. But SOLDIER training ran deep. _The sword is your life, _he thought. He swung the Buster Sword onto his back and pried his stiff fingers away, fingers that still felt the sweet touch of fire. _Fool_, he told himself. _Abusing magic like a panicking blueskull on the battlefield. __They might have died because of you._  
He knew better. He'd been trained better.

"Where are we?" he asked. They were surrounded by rusting, dented train cars, piled haphazardly on top of one another.

"Train Graveyard," Tifa replied. "Sector 7. Cloud, we have to go right now. We have to warn Barret!"

Cloud nodded. "Which way?"

Tifa turned on the spot, examining the cars and occasionally glancing nervously upwards. "This way," she said finally, and dashed off between two cars. Cloud and Aeris followed, weaving between, around, and through dissembled trains. As they reached the edge of the junkyard, a faint but persistent popping noise drifted to their ears. Cloud cut a hole through the fence, and they slipped into the winding alleys of the slums. "Gunshots," Tifa frowned.

"Coming from the pillar," Cloud agreed. "But we're not too late." The pillar stood out on the edge of the sector, bearing the main weight of the Sector 7 plate above. They drew nearer the pillar and the gunshots became louder. One distinct weapon chattered almost constantly. Tifa started to veer off to the left, but Cloud caught her arm.

"Where are you going?" he shouted.

"7th Heaven," she replied. "It sounds like Barret's on the pillar, but Marlene might still be at the bar."

"No," Cloud shook his head. "We need you on the pillar."

"But what about Marlene!? Cloud, someone has to get her!"

Cloud gritted his teeth. "Aeris," he called. "There's a bar just down this street called 7th Heaven. Inside is a girl named Marlene. Get her out of Sector 7." He braced himself for her argument, but instead she just nodded quietly and dashed away towards the hideout. Cloud ran towards the pillar, and soon he heard Tifa following behind. The gunfire slowed as they reached the pillar, and at the foot of the stairs that wound around up to the plate they found Wedge. The young Avalanche member's body was twisted and misshapen; he'd fallen from the pillar. Tifa's eyes widened, but Cloud pushed her gently past and they mounted the steps. Halfway up the winding stairs they followed a trail of blood to Jessie. Her body was sprawled face-down across a landing. She still had her gun in her fist. Cloud noticed it hadn't been fired. A bit further up, Cloud killed a blueskull after Tifa threw two others off the pillar. They passed a half-dozen dead Shinra men, and on the next landing they came face-to-face with Barret.

His dark eyes were wild, and for a moment Cloud worried he might shoot them. Then the big man's face split open in a broad grin.

"Well, shit," Barret chuckled. "Look who come crawlin' back."

"Is this the bomb?" Cloud strode over to a small steel cylinder welded conspicuously to the pillar by Barret's head. A light on one end flashed red.

"Cold as ever, huh? Yeah, that's it. I been standin' guard. Nobody's gonna arm it with me here."

Cloud ran his hand gently over the bomb, thinking back to blueskull boot camp. "It's already been armed," he concluded. The smile dropped off Barret's face. "Probably a remote detonator. Blinking red means a time fuse. We could have 5 minutes or 5 seconds."

"Shit, man," Barret groaned. "How do we disarm it?"

"We don't. Not without the remote. There's no screen, no switches, no way to interface with this thing."

"Can't you open it up? Cut the green wire or some shit?"

"Once armed, a mako bomb is...fragile. Crack the casing and it blows. Take it off the pillar, it blows. I'm a little surprised it hasn't gone off already. We need to get out of here."

"What are you saying? We should just leave it? Get the detonator, or get help, or something?"

"No," said Cloud. "I'm saying that the plate's coming down on Sector 7. The only question is whether we're here when it happens."

"You will be," said a voice from behind. "I'll make sure of it." Cloud turned around and saw her: the young SOLDIER who'd attacked him at the reactor. "Tell me where the detonator is, and I'll at least make sure the plate doesn't come down on your heads." Cloud raised his sword, and sized her up. Tall, but slender, and holding a regulation 2nd Class sword that moved like part of her arm. Her eyes were fixed on him, but he could see her watching the others. She was dangerous. He only had a few words before things went bad.

"How do we—" She swung fast at Cloud's head, almost so fast he didn't see it in time. But he'd fought faster. He turned her blade and kicked her hard in the stomach. She collapsed back and Cloud heard a sudden, sustained beep. The SOLDIER must have heard it too; she bounced up, and vaulted over the nearest railing. If she was fast, smart, and lucky, she'd live. Cloud was more worried about himself. He looked around the landing and spotted some high-tension cables fastened to the steel. The cables radiated outwards from the pillar to connect with the underside of the plate. He looked down, judging the distance as best he could.

"Come on, this way," Cloud said, grabbing Barret by the arm and yanking him towards the cables. Tifa threw her arms around Cloud's shoulders and Cloud dragged Barret to the railing. Cloud leaped for a cable and seized it with his free hand just as the beep stopped. He felt the explosion before he heard it, a blast of heat and light at his back followed by a spray of dust and hard rock. The cable jumped with a loud shearing noise and then swung away. The howling wind drowned out Barret's roar, and the wind slashed at Cloud's face, but he held on. The cable jerked suddenly, and a deafening groan sounded over all. Cloud looked down at the ground rushing past beneath. They were approaching Sector 6, but their momentum was slowing. If they held on much longer, they'd arc back under the falling plate. Cloud swung Barret forward beneath him like a pendulum and let go of the cable. Tifa shrieked as they cleared the Sector 6 wall, and the last thing Cloud heard before he hit the dirt was a rolling doom like thunder.


	12. Barret I

**A/N:** Short chapter, but hopefully another one will be coming soon. I would've skipped straight to Fran post-plate collapse, but I thought I needed a chapter in between for a couple reasons. First of all, a Barret chapter was due. I'd done at least two each of Tifa, Aeris, Cloud, and Fran; it was time to switch it up. Secondly, because the moments immediately following the destruction of Sector 7 is one of Barret's lowest points in the story, and it'd be a real shame to pass up all that character development. The chapter's kinda brief because the scene is so short, but still important enough to show. I'll keep the third reason to myself for now, but you're a clever bunch, you'll figure it out soon. Next chapter is Fran followed by Cloud, and things are really starting to move.

* * *

Barret woke up coughing, and for once he didn't think of his arm. His left eye was swollen shut, but the world seemed brighter than usual. Dust and debris particles glittered in the air. There was a ringing, but he couldn't tell if it was real or in his head. His right leg was bent at an odd angle; below the knee it felt full of glass shards. He gathered both legs beneath him and tried to stand, but the world swam and he found himself pitching forward helplessly. He threw out his arms to break his fall and saw the gun, dented now and caked with dust. Barret collapsed on top of the prosthetic and pain sank its teeth into an arm that was no longer there.

_Shinra_, he remembered. _Always the fucking Shinra. They're evil. They take everything._

Barret grit his teeth and growled, struggling to his feet before falling again. He felt fresh wounds crack and ooze on his face, but he barely registered the sting. His arm was back again; he could feel it. He could feel his muscles stretched tight under the weight, his fist clinging desperately to a slipping hand. He could feel the bullets tearing through flesh, and bone, and sinew.

"Marlene," he coughed. "Marlene!" The cry tore at his throat and he relished the pain: sharp, clear, and real.

"Barret?" Tifa appeared at his side, her face pale under dark dried blood. "Mother, look at your leg…" Barret groaned as she tore open his pants leg and hissed. "Cloud!" she called over her shoulder. "I found Barret!"

"Tifa," he gasped. "Tifa, we gotta get to Sector 7. We gotta get to Marlene before…"

"Barret, listen. The bomb—"

"No!" Barret roared suddenly, sitting up and shoving Tifa away. It was so bright; why was it so bright? "It ain't too late! We still got a chance! Wedge, and Jessie…" Wedge and Jessie were dead; he'd seen them die. They were dead, just like Biggs, just like Myrna, just like Dyne and Eleanor. They were all dead, and he was left alone again. Except… "Marlene!" he shouted, lurching to his feet. "Marlene!" He staggered and fell again, his eyes stinging.

"Barret, stop," Tifa crouched at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. With a grunt, Barret knocked her hand away and tried to rise.

"Marlene! Tifa, we have to get back into Sector 7! Marlene's there all alone! Please!" Barret's vision blurred, but he bit back the tears.

"Barret, there is no more Sector 7," Tifa was crying, too. "You have to lie still. Please, Barret, you're hurt."

_No more Sector 7_. The words rang in his head. _No more Sector 7. No more Avalanche. No more Sector 7. No more, no more, no more…_

"No more," he said. Somehow he'd gained his feet and was limping back to the gate. Tifa was yelling something, but he didn't listen. "No more," he repeated. "No more. No more. No more." Something heavy struck the back of his head and he embraced the darkness.

He saw the young ones first: Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie, gathered beneath a starry sky. They came to the canyon because he called them there. His old arm was back, strong enough to crack a man's head like an egg. He scanned their eager faces, each one ready to listen, ready to learn. Except Wedge was coughing up blood, and Biggs kept asking if anyone had seen his head. Barret looked to Jessie, but bullets had punched holes in her lungs and she couldn't speak.

He turned away from Jessie's bloody smile and found himself facing the women. Eleanor and Myrna stood together, smiling gently behind veils of flame. Their hair caught fire like burning halos, and smoke flowed from their shoulders like dark wings. He lunged for Myrna's hand and caught it. He pulled her to him, but the ground slid out from beneath her and she fell.

He held on to Dyne as tightly as he could. The cliff dropped steeply away, the sharp rocks waiting hungrily below. Dyne had a knife, and Barret begged him not to use it. Dyne laughed and buried the knife in Barret's arm. He was sobbing helplessly, pleading like a scared child, but Dyne just stabbed him again, and again. Marlene raised the knife once more, her pretty face a crushed mess, and Barret cried out.

Tifa and Cloud were both looking at him. Tifa's eyes were soft with concern, but Cloud's eyes betrayed nothing. Barret felt that stare piercing him, examining him, body and soul. He stared right back; Barret Wallace wasn't afraid of any man, SOLDIER or not.

"He's fine," said Cloud at last. "I told you, I know what I'm doing." The pain was gone from his head and shoulder, and he could see out of both eyes. His leg was healed as well, and he flexed it listlessly. Barret realized he was squinting and looked up. The plate overhead looked like a pizza that was missing a slice, and the sun beamed down through the hole. A mountain of sheared steel, tangled cable and concrete boulders loomed overhead. The Sector 6 wall had collapsed in some places under the weight of stray debris. Sector 7 was gone.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled. "I could've got her out! I just needed more time!"

"There was no time," Cloud replied. "I saved your life."

"And for what?" Barret shouted. "So Shinra can take everything from me again? So I can wait for your people to hunt me down like a fuckin' dog? So I can spend my last moments knowing I failed?"

"It wasn't your fault, Barret" said Tifa. "None of us could've stopped that bomb."

"I could've got her out," muttered Barret, hanging his head. "Instead I planted my stupid ass on that fuckin' pillar. She's dead 'cuz I failed her."

"Barret, we think Marlene's alive."

"What?"

"There was another girl with us before we came to the pillar. She went to the bar to get Marlene. She had enough time to get out of Sector 7 if they hurried."

"We found this," said Cloud, holding up a pink ribbon. "It was hers. If she got out, she probably had Marlene with her."

"Marlene…" Barret couldn't believe it. He'd do things different, this time. He'd hide her, somewhere where Shinra could never find her. He climbed to his feet and started unsteadily towards Wall Market.

"It's not that way," said Cloud quietly. "In fact, Shinra's closed off most of the roads to Wall Market. Brave the Shinra security checkpoint if you want, but you won't find your daughter in Sector 6."

Anger rose in Barret like a tide, but he pushed it away. He could take Cloud's shit for Marlene. Hell, he'd take the spooky fuck out on a date if he had to. "Ok," he growled, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Where is she?"

Cloud rose slowly, those dead eyes searching Barret from head to foot. "If she's alive, there's one place in the slums she could be. Follow me."


	13. Fran III

**A/N: **Another shortish chapter. More importantly, astute readers (and probably some of the less astute ones as well) will have noticed that the title of the work has changed to Meteorfall: Legacy. I made this change because, if I keep going at the pace I'm going, this story is going to be approximately three full-length books. Seeing as how the story is naturally split into three "acts" by the disc-breaks in the original game, I decided Meteorfall should be similarly split along roughly the same lines. The first part is entitled Legacy. Part 2 will be called Meteorfall: Reunion, and the third and final part will be titled Meteorfall: Crisis. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and trust me, I'm going somewhere with this.

* * *

A dull ache greeted Fran on her return to the waking world. It rang from her head to her toes, and burst into cruel throbbing when she opened her eyes. The room was bright white and sterile: Shinra Headquarters' medbay. But what was she doing there? She struggled to remember, but it was all a blur. She couldn't seem to keep a thought in her head. She tried to lift her right arm to her head, but there was something in the way. A tube ran from her arm to a clear drip nearby. Drugs, then. No wonder thinking was so difficult. But why did she need the drugs, at all? She was a SOLDIER agent, no stranger to pain.

"Why'm I here?" she slurred. She sounded like hell.

"Try not to move, Dysley." She turned her head and struggled to focus on the man sitting in a chair to her side.

"Henrik?" It was Henrik, but his expression was strange. She'd only seen it once before, in Nibelheim. He looked sad. His face was unshaven and dark circles stood out below his eyes. "Sir, what happened?"

"The plate… Do you remember the plate falling?"

"Sector 7…" She did remember.

Heidegger had met her in the briefing room. "SOLDIER Dysley," he grunted, extending a meaty hand. The head of Shinra Public Safety was a large man, layers of hard muscle packed over a stout frame. He grew his tangled black beard down over his broad chest, as though compensating for the thinning hair on his head. An ugly scar traced a jagged line down from his forehead, crossing over a clouded right eye to disappear into his beard.

"It's an honor, sir," Fran said, shaking his hand. He gestured to a nearby chair and she sat.

"All right," he growled, "let's get to business." The screen on the wall flickered to life, and a second later it was displaying the latest intel on Avalanche. "As you know, the terrorist group known as Avalanche has been stepping up its attacks recently. Hundreds of Company employees are dead, not to mention the civilian casualties. Their recent success is largely attributable to this man." Heidegger jammed a button on the nearby remote and the data on the screen cleared to make way for a grainy surveillance photo. The image prominently featured the man she'd dueled in Sector 5. "We don't know who he is," Heidegger continued, "but he's more dangerous than anything our men have faced before."

Fran knew who he was. She remembered Nibelheim. He was a Turk, a SOLDIER gone rogue, stricken from the honor roll and sentenced to death. She didn't know who had failed to execute him, but it was a mistake she intended to remedy.

"Our spies are saying they're planning something. Something big. Based on the reports, the boys in Intel think they're going after a support pillar. Most likely Sector 7; they'll maximize the death count that way. Dysley, I don't need to tell you what happens if even one of those pillars falls."

Fran swallowed. "No, sir." The destruction of a pillar could cause the collapse of an entire sector. An eighth of the population of Midgar would be lost. The casualties would be in the thousands.

"Luckily, this provides us with a unique opportunity." Heidegger produced a dark folder and passed it to Fran. She opened it to find half a dozen photographs, each of a different person. Some she recognized from the attempted assault on the Sector 5 reactor, but one stranger caught her eye: a young brunette woman with soft green eyes. "Each of these men and women is either a member of Avalanche, or a known collaborator. They'll be fleeing the sector like rats, so you'll want your men on either side of the slum watching for them. If any come out of Sector 7, round 'em up and bring 'em to headquarters. If the worst happens, we're gonna have to tell the people we've got someone in custody."

Fran frowned. "But it won't get to that point, will it, sir?"

"My dear, sweet old mother had a saying, Dysley: hope for the best, prepare for the worst." Heidegger laughed and Fran was reminded strongly of a braying donkey. "Anyway, that's what we've got you for. Get to the pillar, and make sure these bastards don't get their way. Understood?"

So Fran had found herself weaving through the alleys of the Sector 7 slums alone. Reno and Elena were watching Sector 8 while Rude and Tseng covered Sector 6. For once, Reno hadn't complained about his assignment. She only hoped that he'd taken her lesson to heart. The slums were quiet, but that was not unusual. Slum-dwellers always hid when Company people passed through. But something was different. Fran paused at a shack, its sheet metal door cast carelessly aside. Empty. She continued on towards the pillar, and the closer she drew, the more homes stood abandoned. In one hut a five-gil coin sat on a table in the open. Even the looters had fled. An uneasy tightness gripped Fran's insides.

A brief burst of gunfire echoed from the plate and stopped, punctuated by a man's scream. Fran took off at a dead sprint, praying she wasn't too late. There were bodies strewn around the pillar's base when she arrived. Most of them were blueskulls, but she recognized one as a known Avalanche collaborator. His body was twisted, but not splattered. He'd only fallen from halfway up. She took the steps two at a time, vaulting over any bodies she came across. When she heard voices ahead of her, she slowed.

"…a little surprised it hasn't gone off already," a cold voice was saying. A chill ran down her spine. She crept silently up the last flight of stairs. Two men and a women were huddled around a bomb grafted straight to the pillar. Barret Wallace and Tifa Lockhart she knew from the briefing. The third figure was him.

"What are you saying?" Barret thundered. "We should just leave it? Find the detonator, or get help, or something?"

"No," said the man. "I'm saying that the plate's coming down on Sector 7. The only question is whether we're here when it happens."

"You will be," Fran called, drawing her sword. "I'll make sure of it." They turned to face her. Barret and Tifa looked surprised, but Fran barely looked at them. Her eyes were glued to the real threat. But she couldn't attack yet. Honor demanded she give him a chance. "Tell me where the detonator is, and I'll at least make sure the plate doesn't come down on your heads."

The enemy raised his sword and examined her with those dead, glowing eyes. She suppressed a shudder. "How do we—" That was enough for Fran. If he wouldn't answer, she'd take him out. She lunged, aiming to put her sword straight through his eye, but he moved faster than she could've believed. His huge blade was a steel-gray blur, and before she could recover, she felt his foot drive the wind out of her. She tumbled and came up on her feet, a distant beeping echoing in her head. The bomb. It was all over now. He was right: the only question was whether she was around when the pillar fell. She forced herself to turn away and threw herself over the railing.

The ground rushed up to meet her, and she rolled as she struck. A loud snap accompanied a flare of pain in her ankle. She pushed the injury from her mind and ran. Sector 6 was closest and she pushed for it. She heard the explosion behind her and knew she'd never make it, even with her enhanced speed. A terrible groaning resounded in the air around her and she looked up. The plate was sinking. She scanned the underside of the plate, trying to match it up in her head with where it would land. There, a pocket just large enough to house her a half-mile out. She put everything she had into her legs, sprinting flat-out. Buildings flitted by on her right and left, and all the while Sector 7 plummeted towards her. Three hundred yards, two hundred, one-fifty. At seventy-five yards she threw herself forward with all her strength and knew no more.

"I failed," she whispered in the medbay. "All those people." Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she pushed them away. She could still hear the bomb beeping.

"No one blames you, Fran," Henrik assured her. "You couldn't have given any more."

Fran blinked stupidly, trying to focus through the drugged haze. "What d'you mean? What did I give?"

Henrik's mouth tightened. "You need rest," he said stiffly. "I should go."

"Wait, sir!" she cried, sitting up and reaching for him with her left hand. "What did I—" She stared at her arm. It ended just past the elbow. Her hand was gone. Her bones went limp and she fell back. "Oh."

"I used the tracer to find you in the rubble, but your arm… I'm sorry, Fran, I couldn't heal you. Not even with magic. You were bleeding so much, and I couldn't…" Henrik's voice trembled and he swallowed. "I couldn't get you out, and there was no time… I'm sorry, Fran."

Fran stared at the remains of her sword arm. "I was going to be 1st Class," she said dully.

"Fran, there are prosthetics. The Company can make you a new hand, just as good as…"

Fran closed her eyes. It wasn't true. Shinra was at the forefront of medical technology, and their prosthetics were state-of-the-art, but no machine could compete with the dexterity and coordination of a trained human hand. "I was going to be 1st Class," she repeated. Henrik opened his mouth, closed it again, and walked out of the room, head hanging low. She waited until he left, then, for the first time in her life, Fran Dysley wept.

4


	14. Aeris III

**A/N: **I know I said the next chapter would be Cloud, but I couldn't resist checking in with Aeris. In the original game, it's implied that Tseng and Aeris have some kind of history together, but what that history might be is never explained (it always bothered me that he slaps Aeris on the helicopter in Midgar, but then later at the Temple of Ancients they're suddenly chums). In Crisis Core, Tseng has been watching Aeris for Zack, but I'm still not sure whether my Tseng ever knew Zack in the first place. In the meantime, I thought I'd fill the plot-hole my own way and add a dimension to Tseng's character at the same time. Unfortunately, this may be my last update for some time, since I'm going on a vacation of sorts in a week. I'll be writing the whole time, but I doubt I'll be able to post anything until I get back. In the meantime, enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 12**

The walls of 7th Heaven were a motley of brick and concrete blocks, thicker than those of any other structure in the Sector 7 slums. Still, the chatter of gunfire pierced the inelegant structure, drawing the patrons outside. Aeris found them standing about the street, staring towards the pillar and muttering to one another.

"Hey!" she shouted as she approached. "You all have to get out of here! The plate's coming down! You have to get out of the sector!" She looked at each of them in turn, their blank expressions, their distant eyes. She suddenly remembered that she was still wearing the silk dress she'd had fitted in Sector 6. In the same moment, she became aware that every person standing before her was a drunk man. Aeris was no child; she knew what happened to young women alone in the slums. All the same, she stopped herself from drawing the telescoping baton taped to the small of her back; they'd done nothing to threaten her. They got one more chance before she pushed through to the bar. "You have to leave now!" she said again, putting as much force into her words as she could. "Get out right now!" They stared at her for another moment, then another, until Aeris' hand strayed down to the slash in her dress. Then one, a short, squat man with a cap pulled low over his eyes, turned and lurched off. As one, the rest broke and scattered in every direction. "Wait!" she yelled after them. "Tell anyone you meet! Don't leave anyone behind!" She wished she could have gone door-to-door, warning people and evacuating them properly, but there just wasn't time. She mounted the front steps and burst into the bar.

"Is anyone there?" she called. "Hello? I'm here to help!"

"Who are you?" A girl of eight or nine years poked her head out from beneath a table. Her pale face was framed by dirty yellow hair, and her blue eyes were wide and round.

"I'm Aeris, Tifa's friend." Aeris stepped forward and held out her hand. "Are you Marlene? We have to go, sweetie. Right now."

"Daddy says I'm not supposed to leave the bar without him," Marlene protested. "Is someone shooting? Is that why everyone went outside?"

"Yes, and we have to go, too. Come on, we don't have a lot of time."

Marlene sniffled. "But Daddy won't know where I am."

"We'll meet up with him soon, I promise." She prayed it wouldn't be an empty promise.

The girl looked at her for seconds that crawled by like minutes. "Ok," she said at last.

"All right," Aeris sighed. "Follow me." Without looking back, Aeris left the bar and made for Sector 6 as fast as she could without leaving the girl behind. Light, rapid footsteps behind told her that Marlene was following. The gunfire from the pillar had slowed to the occasional pop, and soon it ceased entirely. Aeris' boots grew heavier without each step, but she didn't dare stop to take them off. The wall between the sectors loomed ahead.

"Where are we going?" Marlene cried breathlessly.

"My house," Aeris called over her shoulder. "Behind the pillar in Sector 5. We're almost out, now. Just a little bit more." Aeris couldn't remember ever seeing the gate standing open before, but she was too tired to care. In another minute, she was through. She stopped and doubled over, planting her hands on her knees and gasping for breath. Marlene came through a moment later, flushed and panting, but grinning wildly.

"That was fun," she exclaimed. "I've never run that fast before. Are we safe now?"

"Yeah, honey," Aeris' lungs burned and she tasted blood in her throat. "We're safe."

"Don't be so sure," said a quiet voice laced with the accent of the Northern Continent. Aeris looked up and saw a man standing nearby. His shining black hair was tied back behind his head to reveal a small round mark in the center of his high forehead. His eyes were ice and he wore a sky-blue SOLDIER uniform.

"Oh, by the Mother," Aeris cursed. "Don't you people ever give up?"

"Not usually. Rude, take the child." Aeris whirled around to see a large bald man emerge from the shadows. She remembered him from the church; he'd thrown a knife at her head without a second thought.

"No!" she screamed. "Please, she's just a girl! She doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"Aeris…" Marlene whimpered, wrapping her arms around her leg. The bald man stepped forward, slow and implacable.

Aeris turned back to the northerner. He was inching closer as well. "Please," she begged. "You can't do this. She doesn't know anything."

"Maybe so," the man said, taking another step. "But we have orders. You fit the description, and she's with you. You both come with us." He was close now, another step and he could reach out and grab her. She crouched and put one arm around Marlene. The other arm slipped up and under her the back of her dress. Her hand closed around cold metal, but the man suddenly stopped and frowned. "Do I know you?" he asked softly.

A loud crack echoed from Sector 7 and his head whipped around. Smoke was rising from the pillar, and it trembled as they watched.

"Marlene, run!" Aeris hissed. At the same time she stood, tore the baton off her back and pressed the button on the side. The northerner's head turned towards the quiet snap, but she was already swinging. The baton smashed into his head and she turned towards Rude. She swung again, but the bald man was ready. He caught the baton, but she let go and threw her shoulder into him as Marlene darted into the labyrinth of the slums. He staggered back, and Aeris took off in the opposite direction. She thought she heard the SOLDIER shout something, but it was drowned out but the deafening screech of twisting metal. A breeze played on her face, growing stronger with each step she took. She'd never felt wind in the slums before. A rushing sound filled her ears. She tried to run faster, but her legs felt like lead. Each breath came harder than the one before. She realized with an odd detachment that she'd been running since Don Corneo's mansion. How long had it been since then? An hour? A day? Something heavy slammed into her back, driving the air out of her. The ground rose to meet her and the world went dark.

She woke on a stiff mattress, staring at a dull gray ceiling. She sat up and immediately regretted it; pain stabbed suddenly through her head. Wincing, she looked around. She was in a small room with four drab metal walls. The only furniture was the creaking bed and a shining steel toilet. The room had only one exit, a solid steel door set into the opposite wall. A camera watched her from one corner of the room, a red light shining steadily on its side. She was in a cell.

Aeris took a deep breath and tried to think. What would Zack do? She guessed he'd try to escape, but she didn't see how that was possible. Just to be sure, she stepped over to the door. It had no handle, and the lock seemed to be magnetic. She was wearing a blue shirt and matching pair of slacks, nothing that could be used to her advantage. The ribbon in her hair was gone, but at least they'd taken her shoes as well. She padded around the cell, relishing the feel of cold metal under bare feet. It wasn't the same as walking through the slums or in the church, but she swore she'd never wear shoes again, all the same.

A quiet beep, made loud by the silence, pulled her attention back to the camera. The red light was blinking steadily, and when she crossed the room, the camera didn't track her movement. She was still puzzling over the camera when the door hissed open behind her. She turned to see the SOLDIER from Sector 6 carrying a covered tray. Now was her chance.

She sprang forward, hoping to knock him off-balance, but he leaned casually to one side and stuck out a leg. Aeris tripped over his leg and pitched forward through the door. She landed hard on the floor outside the cell. She scrambled to her feet just in time to feel his hand seize the back of her shirt and throw her bodily back through the door. She landed just as hard back inside. The door slid shut. He hadn't even dropped the tray.

"Well," he said amiably. "I suppose I can't blame you for trying. But I am not Rude. Speaking of which," he leaned against the wall casually, "how is your head? Rude is strong and fast, but he can be…overzealous."

"It's fine," Aeris sneered defiantly. "How's yours?"

The man laughed aloud. "As whole as ever. We SOLDIER members are tougher than we look. I could heal you if you like…" He stepped towards her and Aeris shrank back. "I see," he said sadly. "You do not trust me. I can't blame you for that, either. Still, trust must start somewhere. I am Tseng."

He paused, as though waiting for Aeris to tell him her name. But she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. He could talk about trust all he liked, he was still an enemy. Again she tried to imagine what Zack would do. She had very little to go on; Zack made a point of keeping his personal life separate from his work. He never talked about SOLDIER, or fighting, or tactics with her, and she thought he probably didn't talk about her to Shinra. She tried to think like a SOLDIER anyway and decided that she should take any advantage she could.

With this in mind, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"My commander was…injured during our mission. It has yet to be determined if she will reclaim my unit when she wakes, or if another will take her place. In the meantime, I am on vacation. So I thought I'd come up to the holding level and speak with you."

Aeris set her jaw against the fear that crept into her stomach as her eyes were drawn to the tray. He was a torturer, then. She should have known by the cold eyes, eyes that had seen more than their share of pain. Stubbornly, she pushed the fear away. It was only pain, and she'd felt pain before. She'd die before she told this man anything.

Tseng set the tray on the bed and removed the cover with a proud flourish. A pair of sandwiches and a tall glass of pale amber liquid sat on the gleaming silver.

"I made them myself," he said proudly. "Cockatrice, lettuce, and tomato. I wasn't sure if you liked mayonnaise, so I left it off. The juice is Banora White, from my own private store." Aeris looked dubiously at the meal. "Ah, trust, of course." Tseng held out the tray. "You pick one, I will eat the other. We will share the juice."

Aeris thought carefully. It could easily be a trap. SOLDIER men were artificially enhanced, and their upgrades left them resistant to most drugs and poisons. He could have poisoned both of them and counted on his own resistance. But why go to all the trouble? He'd already shown that he could toss her around like a rag doll. If he really wanted to drug her, why not walk in with nothing but a syringe and his strength? Besides, she couldn't refuse food forever. Like Tseng said, trust had to start somewhere.

She picked up a sandwich and took a tentative bite. It was good. Tseng took the other and began to eat. With a smile and a nod, he took a big gulp of the juice before offering the glass to Aeris. The drink was sweet and light, with a hint of spice unlike any apple juice she'd tasted before.

"What did you say this was?"

"Banora White, sometimes called dumbapples. One of my first missions as a new recruit was in Banora, and I made sure to stock up while I was there. A good thing, too. The whole village is gone now. According to Shinra, it never even existed in the first place." His tone grew bitter. "The Shinra do love their secrets."

"But you don't," Aeris observed. "In fact, you seem to enjoy giving them up. Why are you here, Tseng? Somehow I doubt it was just to chat."

Tseng said nothing. Instead he popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, drained the last of the juice and gathered up the tray. "The camera can only stay off for so long before someone becomes suspicious. I look forward to speaking with you again tomorrow." He left the cell, and a moment later the red light on the camera became steady again.

Over the next few days, Tseng visited her in her cell with lunch. Aeris never talked about herself, but he seemed to enjoy her company anyway. He spoke of Bone Village, the town where he'd grown up. It was a small town on the Northern Continent, right on the edge of the Ancient Forest.

"The town supports itself by catering to archaeologists," he told her. "Before humans, the Cetra lived in the North, and their structures and tools remain there for those who know how to look. Some try to brave the Ancient Forest, but all of them come out with nothing. Many of them insist they never turned around, but rather walked straight ahead, marking the trees as they went, only to arrive where they had begun. In the North we remember things southerners have forgotten, but even we cannot cross the forest. The trees guard their secrets well."

On the fourth day, Tseng had a gift for her. When he took the lid of his tray, a battered pendant sat among the food, adorned with a plain white marble.

"I found it in the evidence locker," he explained. "It didn't belong there. It belongs with you. In the North we remember."

"Tseng," she sighed, lifting the familiar pendant over her head, and settling it into its accustomed place. "You've been a friend to me in here, and my mother always told me never to pull a gift chocobo's feathers, but… You're SOLDIER, and I'm a prisoner of the Shinra. Why are you helping me?"

For a long time, Tseng was silent. When at last he spoke, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to listen. "When I was very young, a boy of four, a woman came out of the Ancient Forest. My father's house stands first by the path, and so she came in. I had never seen her before, and I have not seen her since, but I will never forget her. Her voice sang like the rain, or like the wind in the trees." Aeris' heart dropped into her stomach. _Take him home_, the woman had said. _The one who will save you, bring him home_. "She didn't stay long. She was running from something, or someone, and wanted money for passage across the Sapphire Sea. It was more than my father could afford, but he gave it to her anyway. In the North we remember." He looked up at her suddenly, and she almost flinched away. His normally cold eyes burned with zeal. "She had a daughter," he said simply. "A baby girl with eyes as green and deep as the ocean." Aeris' heart pounded in her chest. "I'm helping you because in the North, we remember."

They sat there in silence. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was. There had to be some mistake, she was just a flower girl from the slums. A loud beep erupted suddenly from Tseng's waist. He snatched a cell phone from his waist and looked at it, frowning.

"What is it?" Aeris asked.

"Stay here," he replied. She was about to point out that she didn't really have a choice, but he seemed to realize what he'd said. "_No matter what_," he said fiercely. "Stay. Here." And then he was gone, leaving Aeris alone in a cloud of confusion.


	15. Cloud IV

**A/N: **Hello, friends! So sorry for the long hiatus. Remember when I said I'd be writing during my vacation? Well, I meant it when I said it, but things change. Anyway, I'm back, and so is Cloud. I'm a little rusty, so this chapter isn't my best work. Maybe someday I'll come back to it, but in the meantime, enjoy! Next chapter is a new character, so get pumped (but not too pumped, because it's Cait Sith).

* * *

The Sector 5 slums were more crowded than Cloud had ever seen them. Men and women, young and old, shuffled about with dazed expressions. Cloud watched two teenage boys argue before an audience of filthy children. One lunged for the other as the children shrieked encouragement, and the two teens tumbled into the dirt, thrashing and biting like wild beasts. One woman stared straight ahead at something only she could see, and called hollowly for someone named Beth. A fresh-faced boy of fourteen kept his gaze on the ground while his hand slipped unobtrusively into pockets and bags.

There was no trail to follow; any trace the girl had left would have been swept away by the crowds. It didn't matter whether she left a trail or not; Cloud remembered exactly where to go. If Aeris had got the girl out, then they'd be safe at her house by now. The labyrinth of shacks and discarded debris was no less confusing with throngs of slum-dwellers milling about, but Cloud walked quickly and confidently. Behind he could hear the heavy tread of Barret's booted feet. Cloud had seen men break on the battlefield: they yelled, they screamed like nothing human, then they went quiet. DMW, they were called in SOLDIER: Dead Men Walking. They didn't last long.

When Barret woke up, Cloud would have bet his Buster Sword that the big man was DMW. "Leave him," he'd said to Tifa over Barret's unconscious body.

"What the hell did you hit him for?" Tifa knelt by Barret and held out her hand. "Give me your Cure."

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest. "I won't waste the energy. He's broken, no use to us now."

Tifa's eyes narrowed. "He saved my life," she insisted.

"So did I," Cloud replied. "Anything you owe him, you owe me double. If we don't get to ground soon, Shinra will find us. He's only going to slow us down."

Tifa drew herself up to her full height and looked Cloud straight in the eye. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and her honey-colored eyes held him in place like the gaze of a Basilisk. Her black hair was lightened to ash-grey by the dust that clung to it, and her clothes…

She pushed him. He stumbled back, caught off-guard, and she came away with a small smile and his Cure materia.

"Tifa…" Cloud warned, but she ignored him. Crouching by Barret's broken body, Tifa closed her eyes and ran the small green orb over him. Cloud watched surprised as she swayed back and forth, lips moving soundlessly. When she finished, she stood up, wiped her brow and tossed the materia back to Cloud.

He set the materia back in its place on his belt. "You've used materia before."

"In Cosmo Canyon," she answered. "If I was going to go up against Shinra, I needed to understand magic inside and out. So I trained with materia, measured its strengths and its weaknesses."

"That's impressive," Cloud admitted. "Not everybody can use materia without SOLDIER enhancements."

"Well, I'm not like everybody," Tifa grinned. "I'm better."

_She is better,_ Cloud thought as he led Barret and Tifa towards the Sector 5 pillar. He could barely hear her steps behind him. Her movements were wary but graceful, like a coeurl on the hunt. The girl he'd known had been headstrong and competitive, but the woman was different. She was strong, hard, and deadly as cold steel. Cloud chanced a look over his shoulder. Barret trudged along sullenly, eyes on his feet, lost in his thoughts. Tifa looked all around as she walked, her head turning slowly this way and that. She caught Cloud's eye and winked. He looked forward again, fighting back a smile. The girl was still there, underneath the scars. He remembered the gate hanging loosely on its hinges, and beyond the stench of fire and soot and blood. His smile dropped from his face. He wondered if she still felt the flames some nights.

They arrived at the pillar just as the setting sun peeked below the plate. The orange glare set the slums afire and the pillar shone like gold. The way around the base was hidden in shadow, but Cloud found it easily enough.

He crouched to examine the dirt. "Small footprints," he told the others. "A child came through here. Just one. Not followed."

Life seemed to flow back into Barret. His shoulders rolled back and his head rose. Cloud was reminded suddenly of just how big the man was; Cloud was tall, but Barret towered head and shoulders above him. "Marlene?" he rumbled. Cloud shrugged. It seemed like the most likely option, but something about those tracks tugged at his mind. Barret moved to squeeze through the narrow gap, but Cloud held out an arm. There was no trace of any other prints. The girl went through alone.

Cloud stood. "Wait here," he said grimly. Barret began to argue, but Tifa saw the look in Cloud's eye and laid a hand on his arm. Cloud slid sideways through the gap and emerged before the tall, lonely house. He approached the door reluctantly, took a deep breath, and swung it open. Aeris' mother sat at the dining room table, head lowered in her arms. She raised her head wearily and turned red eyes on Cloud.

"Mrs. Gainsborough," he said. "Where is Aeris?"

Tifa and Cloud sat at the small round table as Elmyra poured tea. "That man upstairs," she ventured timidly. "The girl is his…?"

"Daughter," Tifa supplied.

"And you're her mother?"

Tifa choked on her tea. Cloud caught her eyes dart to him, though she looked away so fast he almost missed it. "Oh, Mother, no! I mean, uh, no, ma'am. I'm more like…a big sister."

"I see," Elmyra settled into a third chair with a small, sad smile. "A family of circumstance. Just like my Aeris."

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked.

"My husband and I tried to have children of our own," Elmyra began. "He even built this house two stories for all the kids we were sure to have. But I suppose the Mother had other plans for us. He got drafted as a Shinra medic in the Wutai War. It wasn't the end, we thought. We were both so young, still," she sighed. "While my husband was gone, I worked in the clinic. One day, a woman came in. She was very sick, and terrified of something she wouldn't name. But there was something about her. It's…it's hard to explain, but when she looked at you, you saw things. We couldn't save her, but she had a baby girl. Aeris, her mother called her.

"I took her," she confessed. "I wasn't going to…to keep her. But a year passed, and the girl grew, and I was so lonely. I wrote to my husband, and he couldn't wait to meet her. She started calling me 'Mommy'." Elmyra brushed a tear out of her eye. "One day…one day she came up to me, out of the blue, and said, 'I'm sorry.' 'Honey, what did you do?' I asked. But she said it wasn't something she'd done. She was sorry because she'd never meet daddy. I asked her what she meant. My husband was only a doctor, surely he wasn't in any danger. 'He tried to come here,' Aeris said. 'He wanted to see you more than anything. He almost made it, but the Mother called him home.' He almost made it. I remember thinking that was the saddest thing I'd ever heard. A week later I got the letter.

"After that, I knew Aeris was different. Special. And I knew that whoever was chasing the mother would be after her as well. I tried to keep her safe. Maybe I should have tried harder. But she grew up, as all children do, and this house, this sector, it wasn't enough for her. I guess I always knew this day would come. But she was my daughter." Elmyra began to cry, and Tifa moved to console her.

Stomping footfalls heralded Barret's descent from upstairs. "Marlene's asleep," he grunted. "I…I wanna thank you, ma'am," Barret continued, rubbing the back of his head with one massive hand. Cloud watched Elmyra struggle to compose herself. "Y'know, for watchin' her. She means the world to me." Barret's skin flushed even darker, and his eyes stayed fixed on his boots. "I ain't got much, but…" Barret shuffled forward like a guilty child and deposited a small pouch on the table.

Elmyra heard the clink of coin as he set the pouch down and shook her head. "Oh, no, I couldn't," she protested. "Really, it was no trouble, she's such a dear. I don't even know what I would use it for."

"I do," Cloud said softly, the beginnings of an idea growing in his mind. "Leave Midgar."

Elmyra said nothing at first. She gaped at Cloud with wide eyes. "But…but I can't! The gates in and out of the slums are sealed, and I'd get stopped trying to leave from the plate…"

"Barret," Cloud turned to the big man. "You must know someone who can get her out of the city. Without Shinra's notice, of course."

Barret swelled. "Shit, yeah, I do! Er, sorry, ma'am," he added, blushing again.

"But…but this is my home," Elmyra stammered. "Please, I couldn't leave! It's all I have left! "

Cloud smiled. "Not yet, it's not."

Tifa caught his meaning right away. "No way, Cloud. If the Shinra have her, she's gone. Even with AVALANCHE at full strength, we never even got near Shinra HQ. It's crawling with blueskulls, to say nothing of SOLDIER. You're good, I'm good, and Barret's good. But none of us are _that _good."

Barret was a little slower. "What are you two talkin' about?" he demanded.

Cloud looked at Elmyra's tear-streaked face and allowed his smile to broaden. "We're going to rescue Aeris."


	16. Reeve I

**A/N: **Summer job's been keeping me pretty busy, but there's more hay in the barn than out, now, so I hope it'll be a little slower for the rest of August. Anyway, here's Reeve Tuesti's debut, as well as the first appearance of Hojo since the prologue. As always, critiques/suggestions/comments/etc. are very welcome; I actually take them pretty seriously. Next, Cloud makes an unnerving discovery in Shinra HQ. Hopefully it'll be less than a couple weeks 'til then. Enjoy!

* * *

The elevator hummed quietly as it climbed to the sixty-second floor of Shinra HQ, but Reeve didn't hear it. His head was full of the shouts of men and the roar of machinery, the unearthly whine of twisting metal and the hollow clatter of crumbling concrete. His suit was caked with dust, he realized suddenly. He made a half-hearted attempt to brush himself off and gave up when he discovered a layer of dirt and grime beneath the fine grey dust. The suit was ruined, and his shoes weren't much better. Next time he visited the site he'd have to remember to wear a more appropriate outfit.

_A pair of work gloves, too_, he thought as he picked at a fresh blister on his palm. The requests for more men to excavate Sector 7 had crossed Reeve's desk twice: once on the way up the chain, and once on the way back down. The paperwork had left Shinra's Urban Development office fixed with Reeve's seal and signature, so the rejection stamp it bore on its return stung like a slap in the face. _Well, they had one extra worker today._ Maybe it was foolish for the head of Urban Development to strain with the slum-dwellers during a routine spot-check, but Reeve owed them something.

A soft chime announced his arrival and the elevator doors hissed open.

"Morning, Lany," he muttered to the receptionist.

"Good morning, Mr. Tuesti," she smiled. "Been down to the site today?"

Reeve grunted an affirmative and made straight for his office. The cramped room barely contained his desk, and the file cabinets set against one wall took up any space that remained. His chair gave a loud warning creak as Reeve collapsed into it, but he ignored it; he was a slight man and the chair had been holding for years. He booted up his network terminal and turned to the large cardboard box on his desk. Inside were nine binders, three sets of work estimates filed in triplicate. There were three major expenses, Reeve saw as he flipped through the neatly printed ledgers: personnel, machinery, and, of course, power. Personnel would be easy enough; all he had to do was offer a hot meal to some of those poor displaced bastards in sectors six and eight. He could requisition digging equipment from the Science Department without too much trouble. The real difficulty would be securing power hookups for the site. The President controlled power output directly, and getting mako allowances from his office was like drawing blood from stone.

Reeve sighed. If he didn't get started soon, he was likely to just spend all day staring blankly at the opposite wall. Bringing up the Company directory on his terminal, he scrolled down to the number he wanted. Jon was the foreman in charge of the Sector 6 reactor, and an old friend. Jon had a knack for bypassing levels of the bureaucracy, but when Reeve mentioned Sector 7, he hemmed and hawed and told Reeve to file an official request. Disappointed, Reeve called Public Safety and Maintenance, but both department heads were on an important call, and he was forced to leave messages.

A nasty suspicion took root in Reeve's head, but he pushed it aside. It wasn't until after he called the foreman of Shinra Steel (who wouldn't say anything until Reeve had a work statement from the engineers) and the chief engineer (who wouldn't say anything until he had an estimate for the steel), that Reeve's suspicion became certainty. He was getting the run-around.

Lany walked in with a stack of paper as Reeve hung up the phone. "I ask you, Lany," he sighed, "is there anything worse than being a mid-level bureaucrat with more responsibility than power?"

"How about working for one?" Lany quipped as she rearranged the paperwork on his desk. Reeve hadn't thought she could possibly fit anything else on the surface of his desk, but somehow she managed. He'd hired her for her looks; she was slender, with shining gold hair falling in curls to her shoulders and crystal-clear blue eyes. She might have won her job with beauty, but she kept it for three years with brains. Bright, energetic, and unapologetically ambitious, Lany was quite a find. Reeve was fond of boasting that not even the President had a better assistant (although never where President Shinra might hear).

"What am I supposed to do?" he moaned. "Nothing from Maintenance, no word from Security, six months of paperwork and negotiating kickbacks before Sector 7 sees even a drop of mako…"

Lany scooped up a stack of forms and began filling them out one by one. Had she been anyone else, Reeve would have demanded her full attention, but Lany was a born multi-tasker. "You have the estimate for clean-up," she nodded at the box of binders. "That's a start. I'll bet there's a steel price in there. Probably mako, too. What do you need official estimates for?"

"No. I've fudged numbers before, but a whole sector? It's too big."

"No, sir," she replied, her pen darting from line to line. "It's just big enough. Remember the Sister Ray? Three extra years and 1.5 billion gil over-budget. No first estimate ever gets things exactly right."

"That was a Weapons Development project. We run a tighter ship over here." Yet even as he spoke the words, he had to admit to himself that she was right. He'd dealt with construction before, if not quite on this scale. He was probably as well-qualified as anyone to provide an estimate for restoring Sector 7. Two hours later, he had a detailed cost-analysis covering everything from labor, to raw materials, to transportation.

"Not half bad," Reeve stated proudly. "I wouldn't mind showing this to the President himself."

"Good," said Lany, lifting her pile of completed forms. "He called a board meeting this morning. You've got about a half-hour to spare."

"What!?" Reeve's heart dropped into his stomach and began thudding unpleasantly. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

Lany shrugged. "You do better work when you're not panicking about a deadline. Besides, I wouldn't have let you miss it."

Reeve began hurriedly gathering together his notes, digging through stacks and tossing paperwork about haphazardly. "Everyone else will be there early. I've got to get to the briefing room!"

"Dressed like that?" Lany observed.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Reeve asked. He'd had his suit fitted just two weeks ago; it couldn't have gone out of style already. Lany raised an eyebrow and he looked down to find himself covered in filth. He'd been so busy at the office he'd completely forgotten the state of his clothes. "I need a new suit," he said stupidly.

"I had a spare one tailored when you started visiting the site last week," Lany assured him. "It's in your desk."

The knot in Reeve's middle loosened slightly as he threw open his desk drawer to find a crisply folded suit in a clear plastic sleeve.

"Lany, you're a life-saver," he laughed.

"Just remember that when you're running the Company someday."

Reeve laughed again. "We both know you'll be on the top floor while I'm still pushing paper out of sixty-two."

Reeve silently thanked the Mother that he wasn't the last one to arrive. Fat little Palmer, head of Shinra's space program, sat at the foot of the table, nervously shuffling papers and blinking his shiny wet eyes. Heidegger of Public Safety stood behind his chair, frowning at the room beneath his massive black beard. The other two department heads were missing, as was the President himself.

Reeve took a seat near Palmer and leaned in close. "What's all this about?" he muttered in an undertone.

"M-Maybe it's Avalanche," Palmer whispered excitedly, and Reeve saw Heidegger's frown twist into a snarl. "I heard we caught one in Sector 6. They might be planning a rescue!"

Heidegger scoffed, but said nothing. Reeve had his own doubts. Shinra headquarters was the heart of the Company's military power; each of the seventy floors was packed with blueskulls, and the upper floors crawled with SOLDIER.

A high, thin giggle interrupted Reeve's thoughts as Professor Hojo swept into the board room. He wore his ever-present lab coat, and his greasy hair fell in loose tangles down his back to his waist. "They will come," Hojo tittered. "Or at least he will. But not for the girl. No, not for the girl." A foul odor of burning chemicals and sour sweat wafted from the head of the Science Department as he took a seat near Heidegger. The big man made a disgusted noise and crossed to the other side of the table.

"This building is secure," Heidegger blustered from his new position. "No enemy could breach my security; I stake my life on it!"

Hojo giggled again. "Don't be so eager, fool. I know a certain specimen who would gladly take that wager."

"I've told you before, Hojo," Heidegger growled. "If you know something about the SOLDIER with Avalanche, it's your duty to share it with the board!"

Hojo's laughter took on a derisive edge. "I might as well explain astrophysics to a goblin! Besides, in science what is _known_ is a matter of some debate. For example, does the specimen _know_ why it returns to Midgar? To Shinra? Of course not. Yet it comes, regardless. Something draws it here, whether it will or no. It is…fascinating."

Heidegger grumbled something Reeve didn't catch. Professor Hojo was half-mad, everyone knew, but nobody questioned his brilliance. His research into human performance enhancement had laid the foundation for SOLDIER, and 1st Class agents still underwent procedures that he had developed himself. The unit may have been under Heidegger's command, but Professor Hojo was the true father of SOLDIER.

Reeve checked his watch. Five minutes to 1400, but Scarlet still hadn't arrived. Reeve allowed himself some small hope. If Scarlet failed to show up, she could hardly spoil the meeting with talk of weapons and force and killing. Reeve had seen the President listen to reason…so long as Scarlet wasn't there to talk him out of it. His hopes were dashed when they walked in together.

President Shinra had been a powerful man in his youth, with thick arms and shoulders like an ox. But those days were behind him; his muscles had slid away to make room for paunch, and his fiery red hair had thinned to a sparse ring of grey-tinged orange around his temples. Still, he walked with high head and straight back, laughing at some joke of Scarlet's.

Scarlet grinned, but her jade-green eyes were as flat and cold as ever. They reminded him of a snake's eyes, hypnotic and full of hidden venom. Her blond hair was artfully arranged about her heart-shaped face, and she wore a low-cut dress the color of blood. Her beauty was all the more striking for the ugly soul it disguised.

The President took his place at the head of the table. Scarlet settled herself at his side, smirking at each of the others in turn. Reeve decided he'd best open the meetings on his terms.

"We have the damage estimates from Sector 7," he began, consulting the papers before him. "It'll cost about five billion gil to clear the debris, another five to restore the people to their homes. Actually, I was thinking that this might be an opportunity to improve conditions in the slums. It would only—"

"We're not rebuilding."

Reeve wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Not rebuilding, sir?" he stammered. "Not at all?"

The President smiled grimly. "That's right, Reeve. We have better things to spend our money on. Avalanche is crushed, our future secured. I think it's time we move forward instead of backward."

"Backward?" Reeve was stunned. The President could be ruthless where the bottom line was concerned, but this was something else entirely. This was cruelty bordering on madness. This was Scarlet's work. He stared at her smiling face, her cold snake-eyes, wondering if she could feel his loathing.

"Mako collection rates are up 15% city-wide," the President was saying. "Reports from Mt. Nibel and Corel are just as favorable. And Professor Hojo has discovered a new site across the Sapphire Sea to the north, ten times larger than the Wutai deposit."

"Our equipment is performing as ever," Hojo added. "The increased yield does not come from improved techniques or technology, but rather from the earth itself. This reversal of the usual trend is quite encouraging. It can only mean one thing…"

"The Promised Land," the President announced grandly. Hojo sniggered, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Reeve felt ill. "Sir," he said slowly. "The Promised Land is just a myth, like the Ancients—"

"Yes!" Hojo cackled. "Just like the Ancients! Fool! Even in your ignorance you find the truth!"

"Enough, Hojo," Shinra said sternly. "Whether you believe or not, Reeve, mako output is increasing across the board, seemingly of its own accord. Archaeologists have discovered texts, references to a time when mako poured from the ground like springwater. These texts are all adamant about one thing: the Promised Land will return."

Reeve's mind reeled. This was madness. Children were starving two-hundred feet below the board room, but the President was too busy dreaming of fairy tales to care. The cheers echoed dimly in his ears as President Shinra declared a ten percent salary hike for everyone in the room. _I failed_, he realized suddenly. _It was my job to watch out for the people of this city, but here I am, cashing in like all the others._ He looked at his hands, battered and blistered from this morning's work, and thrust them into his pockets, suddenly ashamed. The President left first, and the rest of the board followed him out, all smiles and shaking hands. But Reeve sat there long after, tormented by guilt and what might have been the beginnings of fear.


	17. Cloud V

**A/N: **This is version 2 of this chapter. I jumped the gun posting it this morning. This version's been tightened, and just generally bettered. The end seems a little abrupt, maybe I'll come back and fix it later. This chapter took twice as long to write, which makes sense since there's about twice as much of it. The next chapter will be shorter, and as such it'll probably come a little quicker. I'm thinking maybe a Barret chapter? We'll see. In the meantime, enjoy Cloud's minor mental breakdown!

* * *

Shinra headquarters loomed over the city like some monstrous giant, each window a glittering glass eye staring down. Cloud shifted uncomfortably beneath its gaze, but did not look away. She was somewhere in that building; probably somewhere toward the top. The holding cells on the 68th floor would be his first guess. He'd go in the back; take the stairs. It would be slower than taking the elevator, but quieter, too. Shinra had his face now. If he walked in through the front door, he'd have every active-duty SOLDIER in Midgar to deal with. He doubted they'd kill him, even if they could. More likely they'd drag him down, take him alive. A live Turk was always good sport.

A scrape on the pavement drew Cloud out of his thoughts. He turned to see Tifa lifting herself out of the nearby manhole. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by sweat and she was panting lightly, but she still moved lithely, and when she stood she held her head high. Even after the climb from the slums, she still had energy.

"Here," Cloud tossed her one of the duffel bags lying at his feet. Tifa unzipped it and looked inside.

She cocked an eyebrow. "You're serious?" "She sighed. Ugh, fine." She drew out a drab grey jumpsuit. "How am I supposed to fight in this thing? No mobility, no range, baggy, cumbersome…"

"So don't wear it," Cloud suggested. "Walk in there in the miniskirt and tank top you've been wearing since the plate collapse. Just remember: when you get caught, try not to roll over on me and Barret until we get Aeris."

Tifa turned away and marched down the alley, muttering something about a pompous ass in a SOLDIER uniform. Cloud pretended not to hear. Tifa vanished behind a dumpster and Cloud turned back to the task at hand. As he stared up at the building, an odd feeling crept into the pit of his stomach. He'd been on a dozen infiltration missions, but something about this one was different. He paced back and forth, his breath quick and shallow. He'd been nervous before missions, but not this time. He wasn't anxious or nervous; he was eager. Eager to go, eager to climb to the 68th floor, eager to get in and accomplish the mission. It wasn't right.

He swung the Buster Sword off his back and ran a gloved hand over the broad blade. Tiny materia crystals encased in the heavy steel protected the sword from wear, tear, and rust, but it was still nicked here and there with the scars of battle. Cloud slid his fingers gently down the edge until his glove split with a whispered sigh. The blade was as keen as ever, but the glove was ruined. Cloud peeled it from his hand and tossed it aside. Something about the torn glove caught his eye, and a powerful impulse grew in him. He stole a glance over his shoulder, but Tifa was still changing. Quick as a heartbeat, he set his palm against the Buster Sword's cold edge and drew the blade across it. The sword bit into flesh and he pulled his hand away, clenching it and waiting for the hot, dark spring to well up between his fingers.

"Are you all right?" He hadn't heard her approach.

"I'm fine," he grunted, sheathing his sword.

"Did you cut yourself?" Tifa asked, indicating his discarded glove. "Here, let me see."

"I said I'm fine," Cloud growled, but her hand darted out to seize his wrist. Grudgingly, he let her turn over his hand and inspect his palm.

"You should be more careful," she chided. "There's a mark, all right, but you didn't break the skin. That glove must have been tough to protect your hand so well." Cloud looked down at his hand. A faint pink scratch marked where the blade had slid over his skin, but even that was quickly fading. The hand beneath was pale and bloodless, like the hand of a corpse. He felt sweat beading on his forehead. "Are you sure you're ok?" She looked him up and down with concerned eyes. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, I'm just…" He paused. What was he? Anxious? Confused? Excited?

"It's okay to be nervous," Tifa assured him, managing a weak smile. "The Mother knows I'm barely holding together. If there was ever a reason to be nervous, this is it. Cloud…we're not really doing this? I know you want to help Aeris, and Barret wants his revenge, but we're talking about infiltrating the headquarters of the world's largest military superpower. If we go into that building, I don't see us ever coming out again." Cloud turned away to watch the building, but she put a hand on his shoulder. "If you go in, I'll follow you. But please, Cloud, think it through."

He had thought it through. He'd considered every angle as he dragged himself hand over hand up through the ruin hanging over the side of Sector 6. He'd examined every possible outcome as he crawled through the vents and catwalks that spread in a tangle on the underside of the plate. He had to get into Shinra HQ, no matter what. Aeris had saved his life; he couldn't just leave her to rot in prison. If what her mother said was true and she really was an Ancient, Shinra would turn her into a living test subject. Besides, he was among Midgar's most wanted; sooner or later a confrontation was inevitable. Why not kick off the fight on his own terms? No, he had to get into Shinra HQ. It was the only way.

A heavy wheeze echoed from the tunnel, heralding Barret's approach. The big man squeezed out of the manhole and rolled onto his back in the alley, panting heavily. Barret's size was an asset in combat. He could intimidate enemies with a look, toss grown men around like dolls, and hold a high-caliber machine gun steady with just one arm. But during the climb, Barret's size was a problem, and the fact that he only had one hand only made things worse. While Cloud and Tifa could pull themselves up cables and slip through narrow cracks, Barret had to be assisted at every stretch. Even with their help, he still seemed exhausted by the long climb. Cloud wondered how he'd feel about climbing stairs for sixty-eight stories.

Cloud dropped the other duffel bag unceremoniously onto Barret's heaving chest. "Get dressed," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Barret gasped. "Gimme…a minute."

"We don't have a minute," Cloud said shortly. "They have Aeris. That's the woman who saved your daughter, in case you'd forgotten."

"I hadn't," Barret snarled, glaring at Cloud. "How come you ain't gotta wear a disguise?"

"I have my SOLDIER uniform," Cloud replied. "That's disguise enough." In fact, Cloud had his doubts about how well his uniform would deflect suspicion. By now, Shinra had probably gone through every word in his file. For all he knew, they were on the lookout for a tall, blond SOLDIER 1st Class. But it was a risk he had to take. If any man other than a 1st Class SOLDIER was seen carrying a massive greatsword around Shinra HQ, he'd be questioned for sure. And there was no way he could leave the sword behind. _The sword is your life,_ he remembered.

Cloud looked up and saw that Barret had already changed into his jumpsuit. "Roll the sleeves down," he told him. "You ever heard of a Shinra janitor with a gun for an arm?"

"Shit, look who thinks he's the boss," laughed Barret, but he rolled the sleeves down anyway. "A'ight, listen up: here's my plan," he said as they started walking. "I'll go in the front and cause a ruckus. You and Tifa sneak in the back and get to Aeris."

"A fine idea," said Cloud, "if you're planning to die."

Barret's face darkened and he drew himself to his full height. "I ain't afraid to die," he rumbled. "Biggs, Wedge, Jessie, they gave it all. Why can't I do the same?"

"Because of Marlene," Tifa said softly, and Barret seemed to shrink like a deflating balloon. "You're all she has, Barret. Without you, that sweet little girl will be all alone."

Barret said nothing, but Cloud could see that he was defeated. "We have to sneak in together, all three of us. I can't protect you if you go off on your own." Barret snorted to show what he thought of Cloud's protection, but Cloud ignored him. "We take the stairs; I don't much like the idea of getting trapped in an elevator. Once we hit the 60th floor we have to swipe a keycard to go any further. Tifa, you'll have to take care of that."

"Whoa, wait. Why me?"

Cloud turned to look at her. "You're right, we'll rely on Barret's charm and tact, instead."

Tifa looked at Barret, his scarred face contorted as he cursed under his breath and struggled to tug the sleeve down over the barrel of his gun. "Point taken."

"The keycard should be able to get us up to holding," Cloud continued. "We won't be able to reach the 70th floor, but we shouldn't have to. Once we find Aeris, I'll get her out. I can't think of any quiet way to spring her, so once we have her we're going to have to run. I'll push forward; Barret, you'll follow behind and cover our backs; Tifa, you'll stay between us with Aeris. With luck, the four of us will be out of Midgar tonight."

If the others had any doubts about Cloud's plan, they didn't voice them. Cloud wondered if they knew how thin it really was. They could be recognized, they could meet heightened security, they could be questioned by a passing blueskull, and that was just the infiltration stage. Once Aeris was free, Shinra HQ would become a nest of angry hornets, and Avalanche would be right in the middle of it. Extraction would be nearly impossible. Cloud suddenly noticed that he was wearing only one glove. He yanked the glove off and dropped it in the street; a SOLDIER with no gloves might slip beneath people's notice, but a SOLDIER with just one glove would stick in their minds. Then the building was before them and there was no more time for thought.

Cloud led them around the base of the building to a small, unmarked door in the back. It only opened from the inside; they'd have to wait for someone to come out. He pressed his ear to the door and waited for one minute, then another, and another. Barret began to pace impatiently and Tifa put her hands on her hips, but soon Cloud heard footsteps. He took a step back and checked to make sure Barret and Tifa were out of sight. There was nowhere for them to hide, so they pressed themselves against the building. Cloud hoped it would be enough. He turned to face the door and drew his sword. It was time for the first gamble.

The door exploded outwards and a small man in a cheap suit stopped just short of walking into Cloud. He looked up and his mouth fell open.

"This is a restricted area, sir," Cloud said flatly. "New security procedures. You may exit the building through the main entrance. Behind you, first door on your left." The man's eyes darted from Cloud's glowing blue eyes to his sword, and his head bobbed up and down loosely. Still nodding, the man turned and fled into the building. Cloud let out his breath in a quiet hiss and caught the door before it could swing closed. He beckoned for Barret and Tifa, and the three stole into the stairway.

The climb to the 60th floor wasn't so hard as the climb to the plate, but all three were breathing heavily by the time they mounted the last step. Tifa left the stairwell first, returning several minutes later with a silver plastic card and her jumpsuit partly unzipped. Barret sniggered until a fierce stare from Tifa silenced him. Cloud studied the keycard and found it was stamped with the number 66.

"This is the highest floor you could get?"

Tifa shrugged. "I don't know the building. I just said we were doing maintenance. The guy asked if we were finally going to fix the vents in the conference room, and I said yes."

Cloud frowned. The 66th floor was too low. Still, it was better than nothing. The only thing to do was head to the 66th floor and hope another opportunity presented itself. Cloud left the stairwell and the others followed. He crossed the open floor, weaving between Shinra employees and the occasional blueskull. Nobody looked twice at him, but it was all he could do to control his pace. He was so close now; it was a struggle not to break into a run. They reached the elevator without incident and stepped inside. A light turned green as the elevator read their card, and the buttons lit up to floor 66. Cloud pressed the button and the doors slid shut. When they opened again, Cloud stepped out and immediately drew back in.

"What is it?" Tifa asked. Cloud put a finger to his lips and peeked back out. A conference was just getting out. They were all high-level Shinra executives. Cloud saw Heidegger, the head of the military. There was Scarlet, head of weapon development, and next to her the President himself. The group moved off towards the stairs, but a stoop-shouldered figure in white lingered in the hall. Cloud's breath caught in his throat. It had been years since he'd seen him last, but the man looked the same as always. His hair fell in greasy tangles to his waist, and the white lab coat obscured his skeletal frame.

"Hojo," Cloud muttered to himself.

"Who?" A note of anxiety rang in Tifa's voice. "Cloud, what are we doing?"

"Shinra's lead scientist," Cloud murmured. "He developed the SOLDIER program. Come on. Now's our chance." Cloud marched out into the hallway as Hojo turned and wandered after the other executives. The scientist's head was down, and Cloud could hear him muttering to himself, but he couldn't discern the words. He kept his distance, but when Hojo reached the stairwell and swiped his card, Cloud lengthened his stride. He reached the door as it began to close and caught it with a hand. The door whined pitifully as it tried to close, but Cloud held it firmly in place. Barret went through first, followed by Tifa, then Cloud himself. They ascended cautiously, and when Hojo left the stairs at the 67th floor, Cloud bounded up the steps and grabbed the door again. Once they were all through, he let it shut behind them. Hojo took a right down a corridor ahead, but Cloud led them straight at the junction.

"Where are we going?" Tifa whispered. "Cloud, stop and talk to us!"

"There's a service elevator in the back," Cloud replied. "It connects the 67th and 68th floors so they can transport prisoners back and forth."

"Why do they bring prisoners to the science floor?" Barret asked.

Cloud's jaw tightened. "Hojo's experiments don't always go so well. Volunteers can be hard to come by."

They found the service elevator in a dark corner surrounded by crates and old equipment. Cloud pulled the metal gate open and winced at the loud screech of metal on metal. The elevator carried them up through the ceiling and Cloud knew immediately that something was wrong. Instead of the dimly lit hallways of the holding cells, the room they entered was wide and lofty, with bright glaring lights hanging from tall ceilings. Arrayed along the walls was a series of glass cages, some small, others large. Every cage held a different animal. Some were familiar: guard hounds, sahagin, a sky-blue chocobo. Other cages held creatures Cloud could barely describe, let alone identify. One held an amorphous pink blob covered all over with large, staring eyes. Another looked like a purple snake with a hundred arms and cruel, pointed teeth.

"Mother," Tifa swore, kneeling by one cage. Inside was a beast that looked at first glance like a large red wolf. Upon further examination, Cloud saw that the tip of its tail was on fire and a single feather poked out from behind one ear. It was branded on one haunch with a strange symbol. Cloud was wondering where he'd seen a symbol like it when he noticed the tank in the center of the room.

The liquid inside bubbled and frothed, and tubes and wires hung all around it, but the figure floating inside was still visible. It might once have been a woman, though its flat breasts were pale, and here and there its naked flesh was tinged green with rot. One arm was missing, and both legs. A jagged black hole sat on its shoulders in place of a head. The lights in the room faded away, until all that was left was the glow coming from the tank. Cloud was close enough to see the blue veins beneath the pale flesh, though he couldn't remember telling his feet to move. Then there was someone in the way, a tall man with cold, dead eyes and a mocking smile. Silver hair flowed over his shoulders and down his back, and his long, thin sword dripped black blood on the floor.

"What the fuck is that!?" Barret yelled, and suddenly the lights were back on and Cloud stood where he always had. The man was gone, like he'd never been. "Where's its fucking head!?"

A high, thin giggle filled the room. "That's the question isn't it? Where is Jenova's head?" Cloud whirled around and saw Hojo standing on the other side of the lab. In one hand he held a clipboard. A pen was poised in the other hand, ready to write. "Rather, one might ask, _what _is Jenova's head?" Hojo giggled again.

Cloud opened his mouth to ask about Aeris. "You brought it here?" he heard himself ask instead.

Hojo made a note on the clipboard. "Where else? It's safe here, and close at hand for experiments. This is the perfect place for it. Now, enough about Jenova." Hojo pushed up his thick glasses and peered at Cloud. "Why are _you_ here?"

"We're here for Aeris, you slimy son of a bitch!" Barret thundered.

"Not you," Hojo snapped. "The specimen. Speak freely, Cloud. The reliability of future experiments depends on your honesty."

"He's stalling, Cloud," Tifa hissed. "He's already called security. We have to get out of here!"

"Why are you here?" Hojo repeated, his pen quivering above the page.

"I… I came for Aeris," Cloud said. But as soon as the words were out, they sounded wrong.

"Come now," Hojo tittered, his pen waiting patiently. "The holding cells are on the 67th floor, not the 68th. You know that. Why are you here?"

"Cloud, please!" Tifa cried. "We have to go!"

"For revenge," Cloud said, a bit more strongly. "I'm here to take revenge on Shinra."

"No!" Hojo barked. "No more excuses, no more rationalizing. Why are you here?"

"I…" Cloud looked at Tifa, then at Barret. Their faces were blank; they held no answers. "I don't know."

"It's all right," Hojo grinned, his pen scribbling furiously. "I do." Cloud heard Tifa shout behind him and Hojo's eyes widened. A massive red blur flew past with a snarl, slamming into Hojo's thin chest. Cloud felt a hand seize his arm and drag him towards the elevator. Hojo's thin screams echoed around the chamber as the service elevator rattled to life.

"Snap out of it, Cloud!" Tifa screamed. "We need you to— Oh." Cloud looked through the steel grate at the floor below. Blueskulls were packed into the room, covering every inch of floor, standing on every crate. Here and there among them stood men and a few women in SOLDIER uniforms. The man closest to the elevator wore the sky-blue of 3rd Class, and a dot sat squarely in the center of his forehead.

"Cloud Strife," he said as the lift crashed to a halt. "My Commander will be thrilled to see you."


End file.
